


Stop The Revolution I Want to Get Off

by auntfanny



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Mild Smut, Multi, Novelization, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-05-12 18:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 91,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19234501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auntfanny/pseuds/auntfanny
Summary: The life and times of Inquisitor Tirnella Trevelyan, who is sometimes not an idiot, and is almost definitely causing chaos. Mostly about the romance we know and love, with gaps filled in where I fancied, and good pals abound. A semi slow burn (ish) with occasional angst and feelings, as well as plenty of soothing fluff. Brief mentions of Origins characters (with some mild cannon divergence here and there). No endings too sad, if you're not looking to be. If you enjoyed thinking way too much about romancing Cullen, what happens next will warm your heart...





	1. Whose Inquisition is it Anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> I will add warnings as needed at the beginning of every chapter, but major ones are rarely needed, and nothing too heavy is described in acute detail, so read with confidence I am looking out! Written purely for enjoyment and fun, and the first work I've ever posted, kindness is appreciated.

     Tirnella Trevelyan had considered her options carefully, and after weighing them out, realized she was fucked. Well and truly fucked, as it were. Slowly, she pieced together the events of the past few days; the Conclave, the death of The Divine, her presumed guilt followed by a hesitant proclamation of her innocence. The idea of it all made her head swim painfully. She opened her eyes, groaning as she surveyed her location. She was in a small cabin, in a warm, yet slightly lumpy bed. There were bandages wrapped tightly over her ribcage, holding in what felt to be a broken rib or two, and she was wearing only a breastband and smallclothes. Her left hand throbbed slightly and she looked down, a sinking feeling in her stomach. The mark still glowed, though calmer now. Nell gritted her teeth – it hadn’t been some horrible nightmare.  
     “Oh, fuck me,” she growled. She her a soft gasp from the doorway, where a tiny elf stood trembling.  
     “E-excuse me, Lady H-Herald. I didn’t know you’d be awake. Lady Cassandra wishes to see you in the chantry-”  
     “Immediately?” Tirnella interrupted. The elf nodded, swallowing hard. Nell nodded, grumpy, and the elf scampered out.  
     Nell soon followed, tugging on her clothes, wincing at her sore muscles and ribs. She pulled her old hunting coat over her many layers. The thing had served her well through many frigid nights during the Mage Rebellion. She found it among the rubble of a destroyed house somewhere in the Frostback Mountains, and she had rarely taken it off since. She pulled the coat tight and prepared for the icy mountain air. What she did not expect, however, was the crowd of people waiting outside her door, hands crossed over their hearts, heads bowed in solemn respect. She gasped softly and took a stumbling step backward. Her foot slipped on the icy steps and she began to fall. A soldier reached out and grabbed her elbow, hoisting her up. Her cheeks reddened and she laughed nervously.  
     “Sorry to have kept you all waiting,” she said, loud enough for the people at the front to hear and chuckle at. She cleared her throat awkwardly and pressed on to the chantry. No doubt, Lady Cassandra would have a lot to say, things that would probably be overwhelming and downright nauseating. She found that as she walked everyone repeated the same action. They would squeak in surprise, drop whatever they were doing, and bow. It was an unnerving sight to see. She ducked her head and continued walking, not meeting people’s eyes. Finally, she reached Haven’s largest building, the Chantry, and she pushed the doors open. Inside was dimly lit and smoky from all of the burning candles. A few scattered people knelt in prayer around her, and she smiled at one small boy who caught her eye, watching her with rapt attention. He raised his small hand and waved. She waved back.  
     Nell’s footsteps echoed off the stone floor as she made her way to the door at the end of the hall. From behind it, she could hear muffled shouting. She recognized the voice of the aggravating Chancellor she had encountered at the temple. He seemed to be arguing with Seeker Cassandra, the woman who had guided her through the wreckage of the Conclave to reach the breach in time. With a sigh she opened the door, cutting off The Chancellor’s grumbling.  
     “Chain her!” he shouted. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial!” Nell rolled her eyes. Cassandra, who was leaning over a large wooden table next to Leliana, the other Hand of the Divine, straightened and addressed the two guards by the doorway.  
     “Disregard that, and leave us,” she said coldly.  
     “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” the Chancellor said.  
     Cassandra turned to face him, her eyes narrowed. “The breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.” Nell crossed her arms defiantly.  
     “So I’m still a suspect, even after what we just did?” she asked incredulously.  
     “You absolutely are,” Chancellor Roderick hissed.  
     “No, she is not,” Cassandra replied forcefully. From her place behind the table, Leliana spoke mildly.  
     “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.” She glanced in Roderick’s direction, hands folded neatly behind her back. Roderick’s mouth form a wide ‘o’ of surprise.  
     “I am a suspect?”  
     “You, and many others,” she replied.  
     “But not the prisoner?”  
     “I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to her for help,” Cassandra pressed.  
     “So her survival, that thing on her hand – all a coincidence?”  
     “Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”  
     Nell, having grown tired of hearing people argue about her as if she was not in the room, squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temples. “Five minutes ago, you wanted me dead, and now I’m your savior?” she snapped. Cassandra looked slightly taken aback.  
     “I was wrong,” she admitted. “Perhaps I still am. I will not, however, pretend you were not exactly what we needed when we needed it.”  
     “The breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it,” Leliana said, more gently than would be expected for a woman who scowled most of the time. Roderick slammed his fist on the wooden table.  
     “This is not for you to decide!”  
     Cassandra stepped forward, holding a thick, worn book in her gloved fingers. She dropped it onto the table with a startling thud. “You know what this is, Chancellor.” It was not a question. Roderick’s eyes widened. “A writ from The Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare The Inquisition reborn.” She advanced on Roderick, finger pointed at his chest, sending him stumbling backward. “We will close the breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval.” Roderick, having enough sense to tell when he’s been defeated by a woman much fiercer than he, stalking out angrily. Leliana ran her fingers over the cover of the book.  
     “This is The Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old, find those who will stand against the chaos,” she said a little dreamily. Then, her expression hardened. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now-” she gestured to where Roderick had disappeared “-no Chantry support.”  
      “But we have no choice. We must act now,” Cassandra countered. She looked to Nell. “With you at our side.”  
      Nell looked at the book, biting her lip. “We’ll see how this goes,” she said quietly.  
     “That is all we can ask for now.”  
     “Help us fix this before it’s too late,” Cassandra said, extending her hand. Nell took it in hers and gripped it tightly. Though she was terrified and more than a little angry at being sucked into this mess, she would not abandon them now. If she was to fight by Cassandra’s side, then she was certainly going to fight well. Cassandra smiled, determined, and nodded. Nell laughed nervously and brushed the hair out of her face.  
     “You know, Chancellor Roderick will probably never be able to look you in the eye again. He’ll have nightmares about you for weeks,” she told Cassandra. She chuckled and shrugged.  
     “Chancellor Roderick has many more things to fear than me,” she said, heading for the door into the main hall of the chantry. Leliana followed, grinning.  
      For the next few days, the key members of the Inquisition began preparing for war. The room at the back of the chantry was the head of it all, the War Room, with a large map of Thedas spread over the wooden table. Leliana sent out messenger birds, carrying information to the farthest corners of Thedas. Everyone began to do their part, and Haven grew every day with more recruits and refugees. It was entirely overwhelming for Tirnella, who spent most of her time in her small cabin, waiting for Cassandra’s orders. She gathered herbs in the woods nearby Haven and delivered them to the Apothecary, or played cards with Varric in the tavern. He was the only person who ever acted normally in Haven, and Tirnella was glad for his company.  
     Five days after declaring the Inquisition active, Cassandra sent a message for Nell to meet her in the chantry. They walked down the hall in silence, Nell absent mindedly rubbing the palm of her left hand.  
     “Does it trouble you?” Cassandra finally asked. Nell shook her head.  
     “I just wish I knew what it was,” Nell sighed. “Or how I got it.”  
     Cassandra smiled sympathetically. “We will find out. What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the breach.” Nell clenched her jaw, irritated at the notion that her only purpose appeared to be a puppet used to stabilize Thedas with magic that very well may be killing her. “You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed – provided the mark has more power.” Nell remembered Solas grabbing her wrist and thrusting her hand skyward towards a small rift. She remembered the shooting pain of power radiating down her arm as it closed the rift in a blinding green flash. The skinny elf seemed impressed, even a little amused with her at the time. Since their arrival at Haven, he’d buried himself in his work, trying to learn anything of use for them. She’d barely even spoke to him. “The same level of power used to open the breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by,” Cassandra continued. Nell laughed wryly.  
     “What harm could there be in powering up something we barely understand?” Cassandra pursed her lips, trying to fight the small smile growing there.  
     “Hold on to that sense of humor.”  
     Upon entering the War Room, Nell saw who she assumed were the other members of the Inquisition. On the far side of the war table stood Leliana, hands folded behind her back. But the other two were faces Nell had seen wandering around Haven but never spoken to. A tall, blonde man in a full set of armor and a rather ostentatious fur mantle stood, watching her with mild curiosity as he raised his gloved hands to rest firmly on the pommel of his sword. He looked fairly young, but worn. There were dark circles under his eyes and his jaw was unshaven and stubbled. He had a thin scar running down the right side of his lip.  
     “May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition’s forces,” Cassandra said, gesturing to him. He smiled halfheartedly.  
     “Such as they are. We lost many soldiers in the valley, and I fear many more before this is through,” he said. His voice was deep and soft, but Nell couldn’t help but sense a bit of underlying sadness to it.  
     The third person, a woman, was the opposite of the Commander in every way. She was dressed in a brilliant gold silk blouse, her neck adorned with jewels of red and gold. Her hair was braided neatly, and unlike Nell’s messy braid that fell down her back, it was twisted and pinned up on the back of her head. She held a writing board in her perfectly manicured hands and she had a smile on her face.  
     “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our Ambassador and Chief Diplomat,” Cassandra continued. Lady Josephine bowed her head politely. “And of course you know Sister Leliana.”  
     Leliana smiled. “My position here involves a degree of-”  
     “She is our Spymaster,” Cassandra said bluntly. Leliana laughed quietly.  
     “Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra.”  
     Nell smiled at each of them, blushing slightly when the Commander’s mouth turned up in a small smirk. He was handsome, she would be blind not to see it, but there was something else about him, just under the surface that unsettled her. She cleared her throat and looked down at the mark on her hand. It had stopped hurting when she had stabilized the breach, but it still pulsed and glowed occasionally. Cassandra spoke and she looked up.  
     “I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the breach for good,” she said.  
     “Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana cut in.  
     “And I still disagree. The Templars could serve just as well,” Commander Cullen argued. Nell’s blood ran cold. She should have known just by looking at him. Everything from his posture to his overly serious disposition should have told her immediately. He was a fucking Templar. She bit down on her tongue and sucked in a quick breath through her teeth. Cassandra sighed in frustration.  
      “We need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into that mark-”  
      “Might destroy us all!” he snapped. “The Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so-”  
      “Pure speculation,” Leliana said firmly.  
      Perhaps it was the anxiety at being trapped in a room with an armed Templar, or the irritation edging each of their voices as they continued to argue, but Nell suddenly wanted to run very far, very fast. She was sure she could make it well into the Frostback Mountains before they could catch her. The four advisors nattered at each other like clucking chickens, each getting nowhere in their arguments. Nell closed her eyes and sighed.  
     “I was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of,” Cullen insisted. Nell’s eyes snapped open and she opened her mouth to interrupt him when, thankfully, the Diplomat spoke.  
     “Unfortunately neither group will even speak to us yet,” she reminded gently. Leliana, Cassandra, and Cullen all deflated instantly, their ruffled feathers flattening, and looked to Nell. “The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you, specifically,” she said to Nell.  
     “Can’t you just ignore them?” Nell asked. Cullen chuckled and shook his head.  
     “If only that were possible,” Leliana muttered bitterly.  
     “Some are calling you the ‘Herald of Andraste.’ That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you,” Josephine continued.  
     “Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra spit.  
     “It limits our options. Approaching the Mages or the Templars for help is currently out of the question.”  
Nell felt her stomach twist. What in the fuck was the ‘Herald of Andraste’? She rubbed her temples in frustration. While Cassandra and Leliana explained how Nell has been dubbed the Herald, Cullen chuckled.  
     “It’s quite the title, isn’t it? How do you feel about that?” he asked, smirking. She felt a flash of irritation.  
     “I-I don’t know,” she muttered.  
     “People are desperate for a sign on hope. For some, you’re that sign,” Leliana said.  
     “And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong,” Josephine countered.  
     “Will the Chantry attack us?” Nell asked.  
     “With what?” Cullen replied. “They have only words at their disposal.”  
     “And yet, they may bury us with them.”  
      Leliana explain that Nell would be going to the Hinterlands to find a Chantry Cleric named mother Giselle, who asked to speak to her personally.  
      “Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you are there,” Cullen said. Nell didn’t meet his eyes when he spoke.  
The more they talked, the more upset Nell became. She wanted to help the people, she wanted to help close the breach, but they were turning to her for leadership and she had no idea what to do. She was, after all, only twenty four. She’d spent most of her life in the Circle at Ostwick, and had never been exposed to anything remotely political. For Maker’s sake, she saw snow for the first time when the mages rebelled and the Circles fell. The idea that these people, perhaps most of Thedas, could be asking her for help and strength was nauseating. When everyone had stopped instructing her, they all filed out, all except Cullen. He remained on the opposite side of the table, watching her. She was fixated on the map, taking steady breaths.  
     “What’s wrong?” he asked.  
     “Besides the hole in the sky, the mage rebellion, and Maker knows what else, nothing is wrong,” she hissed.  
     “You are a mage,” he said quietly. There was no malice in his voice but he spoke carefully. “You were in the Circle in Ostwick, yes?” She nodded.  
     “You are a Templar. Which Circle did you end up in?” she asked, still not meeting his gaze.  
     “Ferelden, though you should know I am no longer a Templar. I left the Order months ago.”  
     Nell laughed humorlessly. “No, you didn’t.”  
     “Excuse me?”  
     “Your back is straight as an arrow and you haven’t taken your hands off your sword since I walked in the room. Trust me, Commander. You’re a Templar through and through.” And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out, letting the door slam more dramatically than what was probably necessary. She spent the rest of the afternoon in her cabin, sulking.  
     In truth, she felt a little guilty. Commander Cullen seemed to be a reasonable person, and he certainly hadn’t done anything to harm her. But she couldn’t shake the nagging fear she felt when she looked at him. Broad shoulders and a hard gaze, hands clutching his sword whenever she drew close. She’d seen the same man before. Not Cullen, specifically, but the same Templar. She had seen him in the doorway of every room in the Circle, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She’d seen him in the Templar that came to her manor when she was eleven years old and pulled her out by the elbow, leaving bruises that lasted days. She’d seen him in the Templar that came into her room the night the mages rebelled and ripped her from her bed, demanding to know if she was a part of it. Oh yes, she’d met this Templar before.  
     She buried her face into her pillow and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to press out the memories. It was wrong to dislike Cullen without really speaking to him, she knew that, but she thought she already knew exactly who he was. He was a Templar, and she, a mage. Their ascribed titles driving a wedge between them before they’d even met. She looked out of her window and up in to the sky where the breach glowed green.  
     Now, she realized, she was fucked.


	2. Bears, Mages, and Templars, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nell heads to The Hinterlands. Cullen gets on her nerves, and so does the Inquisition, but what else is the Herald to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Mild depiction of violence and death. Some swearing. Mentions of food.

     The Hinterlands were beautiful in a “there are literally bears everywhere” sort of way. Nell, Solas, Varric, and Cassandra stopped first in an Inquisition camp, greeted immediately by a freckled faced Dwarf who introduced herself as Scout Lace Harding. Scout Harding was chipper and sweet and Nell liked her immediately. She told them to approach Horse Master Dennet to look for horses for the Inquisition. After a short rest and a restock of their supplies, they headed to meet Mother Giselle. After a brief meeting with her, she agreed to join their cause, and Nell went to work helping the refugees. She gathered herbs, hunted game for them, and delivered blankets and furs to the camps. Everywhere she went, she was greeted with thin, haggard looking people, begging for her help. Once, a young boy had reached out and grabbed the hem of her coat from where he lay, bandaged on a bedroll. She knelt beside him and he took her hand.  
     “You’re her,” he croaked. “The Herald of Andraste, come to save us.” She held his hand until he died a few minutes later, a relieved smile still on his face. She choked, hands trembling. Solas put his hand on her shoulder and guided her forward.  
      “I know this is not a path you chose,” he said calmly, “but the work you’re doing is important. These people need you. Stay strong.” She nodded, tears biting at the corner of her eyes. They continued down the path, a fresh determination in Nell. That evening, she borrowed a raven and sent word to Haven.

_Spymaster, Ambassador, Commander,_

_Maker, there are too many titles in this Inquisition._   
_The Hinterlands are about as under control as one would expect (shitty), so I believe I’ll be here for a while. Please, if we can spare supplies, send them here. These people are desperate. Varric and Cassandra won’t stop arguing and this place is crawling with bears. The sooner I can stabilize this area, the better._

_-Nell_

     As predicted, the stay in the Hinterlands was lengthy, she remained for three weeks, doing favors for people, establishing Inquisition camps, running from bears, and neutralizing the Mages and Templars. During that time, she slept very little and ate even less. By the time she approached the Horse Master Dennet, she was at the end of her rope. But still, she did as was asked of her and secured his farm for him. She hunted down a pack of wolves, had Cullen’s men begin plans to build three watch towers, and secured the area as best she could. In return, The Inquisition gained the mounts they desperately needed. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.  
     By Leliana’s request, Nell recruited the lone Warden Blackwall, a gruff, bearded man who spoke mostly in tired metaphors about honor. But he fought well and Tirnella needed him. He and Cassandra got along well, spending many nights at camp talking. Solas spent any time he could sacrifice in the fade, usually propped against a tree. It was unsettling, even as a mage, to imagine spending so much time there. Varric became a quick friend, the snarky Dwarf was always willing to play a game of Wicked Grace with her, or simply regale her with bullshit tales of his time with the Champion of Kirkwall. After a while, Varric would fall asleep and Nell was left alone, lying on her back, watching the sky lighten slowly. No matter how tired she was, she couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the constant pulsing of the mark in her hand, or the thoughts swimming around in her head, but she spent most nights on her back, eyes open.  
     By the fourth night of the third week everyone was running low on supplies and patience. Even Varric had lost his gusto, choosing to sulk by the fire instead of talk to Nell. She grew lonelier by day, and more exhausted. They all sat in silence around a small fire, shivering in the cool forest air. Nell, her hunting coat pulled tight around her, rested her head on her hand and watched the flames break down the wood she’d thrown in minutes before. Though her muscles ached and she was tired and grumpy, she felt satisfied. She’d accomplished an incredible amount of things in the three weeks she’d spent there, pushing the Inquisition forward by leaps and bounds. Not to mention most of the refugee camps had been tended to and were now under protection of the Inquisition. It was all she could offer, but it seemed to make people feel safe.  
Finally, Cassandra announced it was time to return to Haven. Nell almost cried in relief, desperately wanting a bath and a real bed. The entire journey back, Nell sat upright in her saddle in anticipation, watching closely for Haven to appear in her field of vision. Her back was sore and her ass was bruised black and purple, but she didn’t mind the ride. The rest of the group’s moods began to perk up as well, though Nell could easily see the weariness in all of them. She prayed Josephine had been able to have a bath tub brought into her cabin. She needed a hot bath more than she needed air to breathe.  
      After a few more days travel, she saw Haven, and she urged her horse into a run. Before the horse had even stopped completely, she’d swung her leg over and dropped to the ground, boots crunching in the snow. She handed her horse off to a nearby soldier, who enthusiastically offered to tie it up for her, and headed towards the gates. She was almost inside the walls when a familiar voice stopped her.  
     “Herald, if you have a minute.” Cullen came trotting over, hand on his sword. She gritted her teeth and turned towards him. “I’ve been hearing rumors that you intend to side with the Mages for help closing the breach. Do you really think that is a wise decision? Mages can be-” She held up her hand to stop him.  
     “Later, Commander.”  
     “But, Herald-” She advanced on him, shoving him back down the steps a little.  
     “First off, I’ve spoken to no one of my intentions with either groups. You come to me now with idle gossip? I’ve been travelling in the Hinterlands for weeks, helping refugees, taking care of the mess the Mages and the Templars have made, and you want to corner me to preach about the dangers of magic? To a fucking mage?” she snarled, poking his breast plate with her finger. “Listen, and listen closely. I’m very well aware of the dangers of magic. I’m also acutely aware of the brutality and cruelty of the Templars. Leave that decision to me and you go back to doing your fucking job.”  
She turned and stomped up the steps to the gate, refusing to turn back around when he called after her. She trudged to her cabin, not even bothering to unlace her boots before she collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

     Hours later, she heard a soft knock on the door. She cracked open one eye and glanced at the window, seeing the sky was black. She stretched and reached for the candle beside her bed, lighting it easily with magic. The knock came again.  
     “Come in,” she called, smoothing down her braid. The door creaked open and Solas stepped in, his expression vacant. “Solas, what can I do for you?” He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.  
     “I came to see how you were fairing. Cullen said you seemed very troubled when you arrived back in Haven.”  
     Nell snorted. “I’m sure I did seem very ‘troubled.’ Pissed him off then, did I?” Solas’s brow creased.  
     “He expressed concern, nothing more.”  
     Nell sighed and rubbed her cheek thoughtfully. “It’s just… a lot to take in at the moment. All of this, I mean. The Hinterlands were difficult. I helped a lot of people, which was good, but the way everyone looked at me was terrifying.”  
     “What do you mean?”  
     “They look at me like I’m… well, like I’m the Herald of Andraste.”  
     “Are you?” he asked simply. Nell stared at him for a moment, considering.  
     “I have no idea. I don’t think I am, but I can’t prove I’m not. But it doesn’t matter if I am. The people believe I’m their savior, so I have to be there for them. I can’t fail them, not now. Thedas is relying on me.” Solas smiled.  
     “You are strong enough for this,” he said. Nell remained quiet for a few seconds, absently tugging at the end of her braid. “Why do you antagonize Commander Cullen so?” She flinched and looked up at him.  
     “He’s a Templar.”  
     “And you are a Mage.”  
     “Exactly.”  
     “You misunderstand me. He is a Templar and you are a Mage. You are both assuming things about one another that may be completely untrue.”  
     “He doesn’t trust me! I can tell by looking at him. He’s afraid of me because I’m a Mage,” Nell cried.  
     “And you do not trust him because he is a Templar. You cannot punish the Commander with the very same offense that angers you.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Your reluctance is understandable, Herald. I’m only trying to help.”  
     He headed towards the cabin door, humming softly, leaving Nell pouting. He was right. She’d been as quick to mistrust and disdain, if not quicker. At least Cullen had been civil. Even when she was cursing at him earlier, he remained calm. She groaned in embarrassment, remembering the scene she’d caused.  
     She rolled out of bed and tugged the tub out from under table where she’d been storing it. Bless Josephine Montilyet. Using what little energy she could muster, she magically filled the tub with ice, then melted it with fire, producing a perfectly hot bath. With a deep sigh, she lowered herself into the bath, easing the hot water over tight, aching muscles. She scrubbed at her dirty skin until it was pink and raw. Once the grime had been removed, she was seeing more and more bruises, some she couldn’t even remember getting. Her skin had never seen battle before, and it wasn’t fairing well.  
      Once she’d bathed, changed her clothes, and rebraided her auburn hair, she pulled on her boots and headed to the training grounds to find Cullen, planning her apology speech as she walked. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice the large patch of ice until she slipped on it, feet flying out from under her. She groped blindly in the dark, looking for purchase, when she felt two strong hands grip her shoulders and pull her upright. She reached forward, her fingers twisting into what felt like soft fur.  
     “Herald, are you alright?”  
     With a start, she realized the fur she was feeling was Cullen’s mantle. Her eyes widened in surprise and she looked up, barely making out his face in the dark. His brow was creased in worry and Nell couldn’t help noticing he was still gripping her upper arms firmly, holding her a few inches from his chest. The words died in her throat while he looked at her. He tried again. “Herald? You’re not hurt, are you?” Slowly, dumbly, Nell shook her head.  
     “I’m alright,” she breathed. He cleared his throat and released her, though neither of them took a step backwards. She sighed, rubbing her forehead.  
     “Where were you headed? It’s late, you should be resting.”  
     “Yes, Mother.”  
     “Maker, I didn’t mean to – I just…” he groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Let me start over. I’m not trying to preach to you.”  
      She snorted at his echo of her words from that afternoon. “Where were you headed, Commander?”  
      “To find you, actually.”  
     Nell exhaled sharply. “Why?”  
     “To apologize.” Nell laughed loudly and scuffed her boot in the snow.  
     “What’s funny?” he grumbled.  
      “I was on my way to find you to apologize for being an immense asshole earlier.” Cullen blinked at her, silent. His mouth was hanging open slightly in surprise. He reached up and rubbed his neck – a nervous habit, Nell noticed. She continued speaking, pulling her jacket tight. “I should not have yelled at you, Commander. I understand you’re loyal to the Order-”  
     “I’m not,” he said quickly. “But, continue.”  
     “I’m siding with the Mages, Cullen. Not out of spite but because I know for certain they’ll have the power to get what we need done.”  
     Cullen sighed. “I don’t vouch for the Templars because of some blind loyalty. I push for them because I know they’re powerful. They could help, whether you like them or not.” He took a steadying breath. “However, I see the Order’s failings. You, as a Mage, know better than anyone the type of cruelty a Templar can inflict. I will not force you or beg you to side with the Templars unless you truly believe it is the best choice. I’ve offered my views but, as you so helpfully pointed out earlier, the decision is yours. I’m sorry, Herald, if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I only wanted you to consider what the Templars could offer. I may not be one any longer, but I respect those who are.” Nell remained quiet until he was done, watching him carefully.  
     “I’m still siding with the Mages, Cullen,” she said softly. “I respect what you’ve said, but I can’t go to the Templars. Not after… not after spending my life under their watch. I just… can’t. Forgive me.” Cullen’s hand twitched and he seemed to want to reach for her, but he decided against it.  
     “I understand, Herald.”  
     “For what it’s worth, I’m still sorry for yelling at you.” His expression was hard to read. He looked down at his feet, nudging a chunk of ice with his toe.  
     “I understand. I’m sorry too.”  
     “Well, goodnight, Commander.”  
     “Watch your step this time, Herald.” She rolled her eyes and marched back up the path to her cabin, only slipping once.


	3. How to Make and Lose a Friend in One Easy Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much arguing, so little time. This group could probably get more done if they weren't at each other's throats. Also, Nell gets mean, and gets a lesson in being an adult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Mentions of food and alcohol. Depiction of drinking. Swearing. Mild violence depicted. Mention of sex.

          The next morning, Nell rose shortly after the sun. She stretched out, groaning dramatically. She tugged on her boots and combed through her wavy red hair with her fingers before tying it back into a tight braid. It wasn’t until she was pulling on her hunter’s coat that she heard the shouting. With a frustrated grumble, she tore out of her cabin and headed towards the sound.

          There was a crowd gathered outside the chantry, composed mostly of Templars and Mages. One from each group had stepped forward, circling each other. Nell cursed softly.

          “Your kind killed the Most Holy!” the Templar accused.

          “Lies! Your kind let her die!” the Mage countered.

          “Shut your mouth, Mage!” The Templar, already reaching for his sword, lunged forward, only to be thrown backward by Commander Cullen, who’d come running down the chantry steps.

          “Enough!” he bellowed. The Templar gasped.

          “Knight-Commander!” he cried. Cullen rounded on him.

          “That is _not_ my title!” he hissed. “We are not Templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition!” The Templar appeared to shrivel beneath the Commander’s gaze.

          Chancellor Roderick stepped forward. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

          “Back already, Chancellor?” Cullen quipped, crossing his arms. The two men looked remarkably like children, chest puffed out, eyes narrowed. “Haven’t you done enough?”

          “I’m curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its ‘Herald’ will restore order as you’ve promised.”

          Cullen rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. Back to your duties, all of you!” he snapped before stomping up the chantry steps. Nell ran after him, putting her hand on his shoulder. He tensed and turned to her.

          “Herald,” he greeted sternly. She clenched her jaw.

          “Commander,” she replied. His mouth quirked into a smirk. “That was well handled.”

          “The Mages and Templars were already at war, and now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death. It’s maddening.”

          “For once, we are in agreement,” Nell said. They began their walk towards the War Room. Cullen chuckled.

          “On the contrary, we agree on one more thing.”

          “Enlighten me.”

          He paused, glancing around briefly before he leaned in and whispered, “Chancellor Roderick is an ass.” She laughed and pushed open the War Room door. Cullen took his place on the opposite side, an amused smile still fading from his lips. The three advisors all turned to face her at once. Suddenly, she was filled with apprehension. It was time to discuss who to approach to close the breach. Inwardly, Nell groaned. This meeting was bound to take hours, even though she’d already made her choice. After a few pleasantries were exchanged, the discussion began. As usual, Nell remained fairly quiet. She stood before her advisors, arms crossed in front of her chest, watching them banter, as they so enjoyed doing.

          “Having the Herald address the clerics is not a terrible idea,” Josephine insisted.

          “You can’t be serious!” Cullen exclaimed.

          “Mother Giselle isn’t wrong: at the moment, the Chantry’s only strength is that they are united in opinion.

          “And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?” Leliana cut in.

          “Let’s ask her,” Josephine said politely. All three turned to face Nell, expressions expectant. Nell shrugged, a smirk tugging up the corner of her mouth.

          “What can they do? It’s just talk.”

          “Don’t underestimate the power of their words. An angry mob will do you in just as quickly as a blade,” Leliana warned.

          “I will go with her,” Cassandra announced, having been standing quietly beside Nell the whole time. “Mother Giselle said she could provide us names? Use them.”

          “But why? This is nothing but a-”

          “What choice do we have, Leliana? Right now we can’t approach anyone for help with the breach. Use what influence we have to call the clerics together. Once they are ready, we will see this through.”

          The three advisors shared a similar look of apprehension, but eventually it was decided: Nell, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas would set out for Val Royeaux the next morning.

          Nell returned to her cabin to pack her things, slightly nervous about the upcoming journey. From the way her advisors had argued, she could tell this was no small ordeal. She stuffed her clothes into her pack, muttering to herself. A knock on the door made her jump.

          “Come in,” she called. The door creaked open and she turned to greet her visitor. Commander Cullen stood towering in the doorway, his cheeks were flushed and he looked uncomfortable. The jacket she’d been holding tumbled out of her fingers and she sucked in a quick breath. “Oh,” she breathed. “It’s you.” He cleared his throat and ducked his head a little before he thrust a small leather bound book into her hands.

          “I brought this for you,” he said. Nell gaped at him for a moment longer before peering at the book in her hand. It was simple brown leather, bound well, with the Inquisition symbol pressed into the front. She opened it to reveal blank pages.

          “A journal?” she asked.

          “I know this is difficult for you. We are asking a lot, and I thought you might like to have someplace where you can keep track of everything you’re doing. O-or just what you’re thinking. I – um, it’s silly.”

          “Cullen, thank you,” she breathed, still looking at the journal. He turned towards the door but she caught his arm. “Really, it means a lot to me. Thank you.” He offered her a small smile before ducking back out of her cabin. For several minutes, Nell merely stared at the place he’d been standing, her fingers gripping the journal tightly.

          Before she fell asleep that night, she made her first entry. After scribbling the date in the top corner, she began,

          _Leaving to address the Chantry in Val Royeaux tomorrow morning…_

          Tirnella’s time spent in Val Royeaux was arguably the most frustrating thing she’d had to do since joining the Inquisition. Upon arrival, they were greeted by an angry mob of Templars and Chantry mothers. It only got worse from there.

          They left, however, with two new recruits, Sera, an obnoxious elven archer, and Vivienne, an elegant First Enchanter. Nell was happy to have the extra help, even if Vivienne was a bit arrogant. The two women argued endlessly though, and Nell’s patience was wearing thinner than usual.

          Just as Nell thought she was out of that awful place for good, a woman stopped her by the gates. She introduced herself as Grand Enchanter Fiona and she was offering the Inquisition help on behalf of the Mages.  

          Nell, feeling quite relieved, agreed to approach the Mages for help in Redcliffe as soon as she arranged it with her advisors. Suddenly feeling very determined, Nell made her way out of Val Royeaux and sped towards Haven, happy to be leaving Orlais behind. She longed for a day or two of peace, and, if she was honest, a small part of her wanted to see Cullen. His journal had been a thoughtful gift. So far she’d kept brief notes on all the things they’d done on their trip, making small lists of the tasks to complete. It was exceptionally helpful, and she didn’t understand what had inspired him to give it to her. She’d been nothing but antagonistic and confrontational to him since they’d met, and yet he stood in her cabin, stammering and red faced, giving her what may end up being her most valued possession. Well, aside from her coat it was her only possession, and the coat had some holes in it. So, she was eager to talk to him again. The journey back to Haven seemed to take an eternity, with Nell growing more restless each day, but finally Haven appeared in their path.

          Her arrival in Haven was unceremonious at best. There was no one to greet them at the gates. Her small party quickly tied their horses off and slugged back to their separate areas with hardly a parting word to one another. She stayed in the stables, gently brushing out each of their horses, murmuring to them softly. Just as she was about to leave, she heard a small mewling coming from under some straw. She approached it carefully and pushed some of it back to reveal a tiny orange face poking out at her. A small, thin cat, probably not much older than a kitten, was hiding underneath the hay. It mewled again and crawled towards her. She picked it up and it immediately nested under her chin, purring loudly. She turned to Master Dennet.

          “Have you seen this cat before?” she asked. He shrugged.

          “Don’t think it belongs to anyone, My Lady.”

          Nell looked down at the small creature in her arms and it looked back up at her. One of its eyes had gone cloudy, having been blinded in an attack of some sort. She frowned and scratched its head and left with it, cooing softly. If no one would care for the cat, then she would, she decided. She walked towards the gate absentmindedly before spotting Cullen standing amidst the training soldiers. He stood watching them, shoulders pulled back. He looked powerful, but also tired. Again, she noticed she circles under his eyes, aging him considerably, and his hands seemed to be trembling ever so slightly. She called to him and he jumped.

          “Herald.”

          “Are you ever going to stop addressing me like that?” she asked. He ignored her.

          “You have a… cat?” She held the cat out to him, urging him to hold it. He took a step back, shaking his head.

          “Oh, no, I’d rather-”

          “Just hold the cat, Cullen.”

          “Herald, really, I have troops to train, I shouldn’t be holding stray cats. Besides, the thing is probably filthy.” Nell gasped, putting a hand over the cat’s ears dramatically.

          “Take that back!” she said. He smirked.

          “Was there something you needed?” Nell rolled her eyes.

          “Just checking in on how things are going with our troops.” Cullen scanned the field of soldiers, most of whom were sparring in pairs, or with practice dummies.

          “We received a number of recruits from Haven, and some Pilgrims. None made _quite_ the entrance you did.” He glanced at her, smirking again. He did that a lot, Nell noticed.

          “At least I got everyone’s attention,” she said, laughing. Cullen stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable.

          “That you did,” he murmured before clearing his throat. They began to walk along the tents, both watching the troops casually. “I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself. I was there during the Mage uprising, saw firsthand the devastation it caused.” A messenger interrupted briefly to hand Cullen a report, which he scanned absently. “Cassandra sought a resolution. When she offered me a position, I left the Templars to join the cause. Now it seems we face something far worse.” His expression darkened.

          “I must have this mark for a reason. It will work, I’m sure of it,” Nell said softly. He shrugged.

          “Provided we can secure aid, but I’m confident we can. The Chantry lost control of the Templars and the Mages. Now they argue over a new Divine while the breach remains. The Inquisition could act when the Chantry could not. Our followers could be part of that! There’s so much we could-” He stopped himself, cheeks reddening slightly. “Forgive me, I doubt you came here for a lecture.”

          Nell offered a smile. “No, but if you have one prepared, I’d love to hear it.”

          Cullen chuckled. “Another time, perhaps.” They continued looking at each other for a moment and Nell saw again just how attractive he was. He had a strong jaw and a stern face, but his expression was soft and his eyes were warm. The scar above his lip stretched when he smiled or talked and Nell had the sudden impulse to touch it. Cullen grew flustered under her gaze, clearing his throat again. “I, uh… There’s still a lot of work ahead.”

          A scout approached with another message and Cullen sighed in both frustration at being interrupted and relief at having an escape. “As I was saying.” He walked away with the scout, but he turned back, glancing at Nell. Just to make him nervous, she winked, and he sputtered, rubbing the back of his neck. Nell laughed and darted up the steps with her cat clutched to her chest.

          On her way back to her cabin, she was stopped by an armored man she did not recognize, claiming to come on behalf of someone named The Iron Bull, who wanted to meet her somewhere along the Storm Coast. Nell agreed and told the man she’d head out as soon as she could to see what this Iron Bull had to offer. He had a silly name, but Nell would take all the help she could get her hands on.

         

          That evening, her and the cat joined Varric and Sera in the tavern. They debated on names for the animal, and as the three of them got drunker, the names got more ridiculous. In the end, none of them could come to a decision, especially considering none of them knew if the cat was male or female. Instead, they took turns holding it while playing cards. The little thing purred loudly, sleeping against everyone’s shoulders. As the night wore on, the edges of Nell’s vision went a little fuzzy and her speech was thick and slurred. She took her cat and stumbled out of the tavern, humming tunelessly to herself.

          Somewhere along the way, she bumped into a familiar Templar.

          “Why is it I always seem to run into you?” she asked, stumbling a bit. Cullen caught her by the elbow.

          “I always walk the grounds at night, checking on things. I need to be aware of any problems in Haven,” he said flatly.

          “You worry too much,” she observed. He smiled wryly.

          “You’re drunk.” Nell nodded, nuzzling against the soft fur of her cat. Suddenly, she jumped, startling Cullen.

          “How do you tell if this cat is a boy or a girl?” she practically shouted. Cullen gaped at her for a moment before sighing and taking the cat from her. He lifted it up for only a moment before putting it back in her arms.

          “Boy.”        

          “You’re sure?”

          “I think I’d recognize the parts,” he said, smirking. Nell furrowed her eyebrows, confused before it sunk in. _Cullen was making a joke._ She laughed and he put his hand on her arm again. “Let me walk you back to your cabin,” he offered.

          They walked in silence for a moment before Nell giggled and looked at him. “Do Templars take vows? ‘I swear to the Maker to watch all Mages’- that sort of thing?” she asked suddenly. Cullen raised his eyebrows.

          “There’s a vigil first,” he said slowly. “You’re meant to be at peace during that time, but your life is about to change. When it’s over, you give yourself to a life of service. That’s when you’re given a philter – your first draught of lyrium – and its power. As Templars, we are not to seek wealth or acknowledgement. Our lives belong to the Maker and the path we have chosen.” He finished sternly, eyes faced forward. He’d clearly recited those words several times over the years. Even drunk, Nell could tell they were tired and meaningless on his tongue. This did not stop her from continuing.

          “Hmm… A life of service and sacrifice. Are Templars also expected to give up… _physical_ temptations?”

          That did it. Cullen’s eyes widened and he stopped walking momentarily. Even in the low lighting of the moon, Nell could see his darkening cheeks.

          “Physical?” he choked. “Why… why would you – That’s not expected. Templars can marry, although there are rules around it, and the Order must grant permission… Some may choose to give up more to prove their devotion, but it’s, um, not required.” He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to look anywhere but her face. She giggled.

          “Have you?”

          “Me?” Cullen laughed nervously. “I… um… no, I’ve taken no such vows. Maker’s breath, can we speak of something else?” There was a panicked edge to his voice and a sober Nell would have relented, not wanting to go too far with her teasing. But this was not a sober Nell, and thus, the words tumbled out before she could think them through.

          “Does sex embarrass you, Commander, because you’ve never had it or because you lack any skill?” They had reached her door by then and Cullen stopped outside it, his back stiff.

          “I didn’t realize you were only asking about my life as a Templar to tease me about my sexual history, which I might add, is neither embarrassing, nor any of your concern.” He stared at her, his face contorted in anger and the underlying blush of shyness. She felt a pang of guilt.

          “Cullen-”

          He sighed. “Goodnight, Herald.”

          He turned to go, hands on the pommel of his sword. “Could you at least call me Nell?” she called to his retreating form. He did not stop, turn, or speak. He only kept forward, his boots crunching softly in the snow. She swore she saw his hands shaking again, but perhaps it was only a trick of the darkness.

 

          Cullen sulked in his tent, bent over his makeshift desk, trying to read a report by candlelight. He’d been squinting at the same report for a half an hour, to no avail. He, much to his annoyance, couldn’t stop thinking of her.

          Tirnella Trevelyan, the bloody Herald of Andraste. He scoffed at the notion that _she_ would be Andraste’s chosen. She was sarcastic and obnoxious and bold _and beautiful,_ but mostly annoying. He had to admit, he found himself staring at her far more often than was acceptable, but aside from her pretty face and well developed chest, he couldn’t find much he enjoyed about her. She was wild where he was mundane, a fact she delighted in tormenting him with, it seemed. He sank into his chair with a guilty sigh. He wasn’t giving her the credit she was due, and he knew it.

          Tirnella was wild but she was also kind and incredibly dedicated to the Inquisition, not that she had much choice, but he still had to commend her devotion to helping the refugees and doing her part. When it really came down to it, Cullen was bitter over his wounded manly pride. She was sharp tongued and brash and Maker take him it flustered the poor Commander like no other. With a frustrated growl, he tossed the report aside and instead turned to mindless pacing to take his thoughts off of the Herald’s teasing, and the aching headache that was spreading steadily from behind his left eye.

          She was a Mage, and one he barely knew. Even as an _ex_ -Templar, everything in him screamed that he should leave her be. His instincts told him to run, or to loath her. Tirnella’s kindness, it seemed, extended to everyone except him. For him, she was cold and biting and full of vitriol. He sighed again, rubbing his temples furiously.

          It was going to be a long night, Cullen could tell.

 


	4. Nell Fights Some Dragons (sort of)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nell takes on the Fallow Mire, and gets her first lesson in getting her ass kicked. Cullen frets, Nell deflects, but maybe the two can find common ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Moderate depictions of violence/combat. Description of injury. Swearing. Mention of sex. Mention of alcohol.

_Spymaster, Ambassador, Commander-_

_Again, I suggest we shorten that. Perhaps a team name? We’ll think on it._

_The Storm Coast is the wettest place in Thedas. I’m not even kidding you, it hasn’t stopped raining once since our arrival._

_We recruited a very… interesting Qunari warrior named The Iron Bull (and yes, I asked, ‘the’ is part of the name). He has horns and an eyepatch but he swings an axe like he was born doing it. The Storm Coast is pretty mild, there has been little as far as combat. Once we’ve finished investigating some things with the Grey Wardens and cleaning the area up a bit, we’ll be heading back to Haven. I’m looking forward to being dry for the first time in two weeks._

_Nell_

_Lady Herald-_

_I am sorry to tell you this, but your arrival in Haven will be brief. We’ve received word on a band of Inquisition soldiers that have been captured and are being held in the Fallow Mire. Your assistance is required immediately, and you must only stay in Haven long enough to replenish supplies. My condolences on your continued dampness._

_Commander Cullen_

_Commander ‘probably smirking right now’ Cullen-_

_I hope you enjoy your warm, dry tent while it lasts, Commander, because as soon as I’m done in the Fallow Mire, I’m dumping everything you own in the lake._

_Nell_

_Lady Herald-_

_The lake is frozen._

_Commander Cullen_

They’d been traveling back to Haven for several days now, and Nell still hadn’t dried. Her frustration, however, stemmed more from a certain Commander who was _certainly_ driving her mad.

          After her ridiculous drunken antics, she hadn’t had the courage to even speak to him in person. The next morning, she’d taken her opportunity to avoid him and set off for the Storm Coast, hoping some distance would allow him to calm down. She didn’t know why it bothered her so much, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She was drawn to him, but every time they spoke she seemed to make him angry, and she knew she’d gone too far this time. She’d progressed from simple bickering to insults, ones she regretted deeply. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably whenever she thought of him and the look in his eyes before he’d turned away from her.

          With a heavy sigh she sat by the small fire her team had managed to start and wrote down the day’s events in the journal. She’d been keeping meticulous notes since Val Royeaux. She stuffed Cullen’s letters in the pages as well, because she didn’t have the heart to burn them. Once she’d run out of things to document, she scribbled another note to Cullen, tearing the page out of her journal.

_Cullen-_

_If I haven’t completely ruined any chance at civility between us, I’d like to talk with you when we return. Please._

_Nell_

          She sent the message off, hoping it would arrive in Haven before her. The group set out the next morning and traveled until nightfall. For several days, they had hardly stopped riding. Everyone was fairly uncomfortable and tired, but no one complained. Each member of the party was eager to put the Storm Coast far behind them.

They weren’t far off, and her nerves had become very distracting. She was dreading her talk with Cullen. For the remainder of her journey, she was quiet in her saddle. Varric did his best to entertain her, which she was grateful for, but her mind always drifted back to the grim ex-Templar waiting for her back in Haven.

          When they arrived, she carefully dismounted her horse and went straight for the training grounds and looked for Cullen. When she didn’t spot him, she turned to a nearby solider. “Where is the Commander?” she asked casually. The recruit pointed to a tent. After a few moments of building up her courage, she pushed the flap aside and entered.

          She expected to find him working, or pacing, or doing whatever grumpy Templars do in their spare time. What she did not expect was to see Cullen out of his armor, standing over his desk in only a loose tunic and breeches, his hair just the tiniest bit curly. He pushed his sleeves up his arm and bent down to scribble something at the bottom of a report. She gasped softly, taken aback by his disheveled appearance. He spun around, his face hardening when he saw her.

          “I didn’t realize you’d returned,” he said quietly, glancing down at his clothes.

          “Well, here I am,” she shrugged. It occurred to her that she probably looked like a mess, covered in dirt and grime from travel. She felt a twinge of embarrassment. Cullen dropped his quill on his desk, sighed, and crossed his arms.

          “You wished to talk?” he said.

          “I’ve never had sex before,” she blurted suddenly. Cullen froze, his eyebrows slowly creeping up as he gaped at her. Nell felt her face growing extremely hot as she realized what she’d said. “I – um, well, you see… Let me start over. What I said to you the night before I left was wrong. It was invasive and incredibly cold, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Cullen. I, of all people, shouldn’t be teasing you about that sort of thing because… Well, I’ve never – um – done… it.” She trailed off with a vague wave of her hand before lowering her head, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

          She expected Cullen to be disgusted or angry with her, or worse, look at her like she was a child, but instead, he only chuckled softly.

          “I accept your sincere, although unorthodox, apology, Herald.” Nell’s face reddened more and she chewed her lip.

          “I should go,” she muttered hastily.

          “Wait,” Cullen called, putting a hand on her shoulder. She turned to look at him, feeling suddenly very small as he towered several inches above her. “I’m not laughing at you. There’s nothing shameful in what you’ve told me.”

          Nell watched him for a moment, pondering. “Well, don’t take this truce to mean we’re friends. I just want us to be civil.” Cullen chuckled again, running his fingers through his hair.

          “Of course, My Lady,” he said, the corners of his mouth fighting a smile. “Not friends?” he asked, extending his hand to her. She shook it quickly and then he smiled, still gripping her hand, and she felt an unfamiliar flutter in her chest. Suddenly, the red in her cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment. She left his tent as quickly as her feet could move her and scurried back to her cabin. Cullen watched her go, feeling strangely lightheaded.

          Nell made her way back to her cabin and eagerly scrubbed days of road dust off of her skin before collapsing on the bed, sleeping soundly until morning. At first light, Cassandra woke her and informed her they were to leave for the Fallow Mire immediately. Though Nell was already aware of it, she made a big show of flopping on her back and moaning about her desire to stay in bed. Cassandra smiled crookedly.

          “First one to the stables gets to ride the Bog Unicorn,” she said.

          Nell had never packed quicker in her life. She raced down the hill, braid bouncing behind her, pack in one hand, breakfast in the other. The gates flew open as she bounded into them, panting. After practically leaping down the stairs, she skidded to a stop by the stables. Varric, Cassandra, and Solas all looked up at her with amused expressions. Nell threw her pack on the ground, chest heaving.

          “Let me guess,” she wheezed, “when Cass said the first one here gets the Bog Unicorn, she neglected to tell me that you were all already here?” Varric and Solas nodded and Nell swore loudly. Cass laughed and hoisted herself up onto the Bog Unicorn.

          “But it got you out of bed, did it not?” she said, chuckling. Nell rolled her eyes and pulled herself up on a simple Ferelden mare.

          “The Herald of Andraste, and this is how they treat me,” she muttered, winking at Varric. The group settled themselves in for the long ride, and off they went. A fresh snowfall was beginning as they put Haven behind them, making Nell’s hands go numb. She roughly tightened her coat around her shoulders. It wasn’t until they’d been on the road for over an hour that Nell realized she hadn’t even said goodbye to Cullen.

          _Well it doesn’t matter, it’s not like he would have cared,_ Nell thought to herself.

         

The Fallow Mire was everything Nell was promised. It was humid and dark and crawling with the undead and more than once, Nell’s boot had sunk into the mud and she’d lost her balance and fallen straight on her ass. The third time she did it, her patience for the trip was gone. Solas pulled her up by her elbow. He scanned out over the marsh, squinting.

“Don’t disturb the water,” he murmured.

“Why?”

He took a long breath before turning to look at her. “It wakes the dead.”

He continued down the path, using his staff as a walking stick. Nell glanced over her shoulder at the others, who looked equally perplexed by the elf’s queer behavior. Nell shivered. She was sure she could see the outline of figures in the fog, but perhaps it was her imagination.

They continued on, occasionally stopping to search the old abandoned cabins scattering the swamp. It was incredibly morbid to be standing in what was once a family’s home, knowing now what they had become. The old rotting wood groaned beneath her feet and she urged the group forward. The longer they stayed there, the more unsettled Nell felt. Every slurp of mud underfoot made her jump, every splash of water sent a chill down her back. So far they’d experienced almost no undead activity, only the occasional outlier rising from the water to attack, but she could feel them pressing on the edges of the group’s field of vision, waiting just far enough away to go undetected.

Along the path, the group stumbled upon some beacons, which they used to draw out the monsters and kill them all at once. By the third beacon, Nell’s arms were shaking from exertion and she couldn’t catch her breath. Cassandra clapped her on the shoulder.

“Just a little farther, Herald.” And so they continued.

The fortress they were looking for was a nightmare. After a quick glance at the main gate, they knew they wouldn’t be able to fight the undead and win. Using as much of their remaining strength as they could sacrifice, the party bounded forward, knocking undead aside to get to the gate. Once inside, they hastily went to work clearing the fortress of Avaar warriors. It was the most unorganized assault Nell had ever been a part of, but somehow they survived and made it to the chief. Nell groaned when she saw him, over six feet tall, all bulging muscle and strength. He called to her, challenging her. She tightened her grip on her staff and nodded to her team members.

“We have your back, Herald,” Varric muttered beside her.

The fight was hard won. The Avaar were massive and unafraid, and they knocked Nell around like a limp doll. After the fourth time she was slammed into a stone wall, she was sure she’d have permanent bruising. The chief threw her to the ground and she heard her shoulder rip from its socket with a sickening pop. And yet, by a sheer stroke of luck, she managed to wriggle out of his iron grip and dart away. Cassandra put herself between the Avaar chief and the Herald, driving her sword straight into his chest. Nell dropped to her knees, panting, her limbs trembling. Cassandra knelt in front of her. “Are you injured?” she asked, taking Nell’s face in her hands and inspecting her.

“Never been better, Cass,” she muttered, although her entire body was aching. “Now let’s get our people.”

 

After their rescue, Nell wrote to Cullen.

_Cullen-_

_~~Fuck the Fallow Mire. Fuck undead. Fuck this mission. Fuck mud.~~_

_Forgive me, I’m not in the best of moods. Did you know this place used to be a town? Did you know everyone died and now lives underwater as hoards of undead? My boots haven’t been dry in a week._

_I rescued the soldiers. Their wounds have been treated and they went on their way back to Haven this morning. In order to access them I had to fight the Avaar chief, who challenged me specifically. The fight was mild. Other than some bruising, I suffered little injury. For the past few days we’ve been exploring the area, gathering supplies, and tying up any loose ends. We accomplished what we set out here to do. We’re coming back to Haven tomorrow._

_Nell_

_Lady Herald-_

_Thank you for rescuing our people. You’ve done incredibly well. They arrived in Haven today, raving about how the Herald of Andraste herself saved them from certain death. They said you singlehandedly fought off a dragon to rescue them, but I was a bit skeptical on that detail._

_Please be cautious when handling the Avaar. They are a violent and brutish people. The Inquisition cannot afford to lose you._

_Cullen_

_Cullen-_

_First of all, please call me Nell._

_Secondly, I didn’t singlehandedly fight off a dragon to save the missing scouts. I fought off two._

_Third, I am always careful._

_Nell_

Nell and her party had been slowly making their way back to Haven, every single one of them too tired and grumpy to talk. In Nell’s case, she was more in pain than anything. She had severe bruising and possibly broken bones, all of which she’d done her best to hide from the others. They rode in total silence, only speaking when it was absolutely necessary. Cullen had never replied to her latest letter and she felt far more dejected than she should over the matter. Still, there was a small fire of determination in her belly as they approached the town.

          It was time to go to Redcliffe. They were going to close the breach.

          By the time they arrived in Haven, her injuries had reached their peak. Her back and shoulders were black and purple with deep bruising and her joints ached from being dislocated during the fight. She stabled her horse and hobbled to Haven’s main gate, gritting her teeth at the pain. As she went to walk up the steps, she lost her footing on the ice and fell, landing sharply on her left side. Her bruised ribcage screamed in pain and she couldn’t help the agonized cry that came from her throat. After a steadying breath, Nell pushed herself up on her hands and knees.

          “Herald!” She heard footsteps crunching in the snow, coming to a halt beside her. Two gloved hands wrapped around her upper arms, trying to lift her. The pressure on her shoulder caused a shooting pain, making Nell gasp. A hand cupped her chin, tilting her head up. “Herald, can you hear me? What happened to you?” Nell blinked, her eyes focusing in on Cullen’s face. She pushed his hands away, biting down on her tongue as she slowly pushed herself to her feet.

          “Just slipped, that’s all,” she grunted. Cullen put his hand on her arm again, gentler this time.

          “Don’t lie to me,” he said quietly. “You’re injured.”

          “I’m fine!” Nell insisted, instinctively reaching to cover her back. In a flash, Cullen reached forward, lifting the hem of her coat and tunic up, revealing the start of the bruising on her skin. He gasped.

          “Maker, what did this to you?” he breathed. Nell pulled out of his grasp, nearly losing her footing again.

          “Please, Cullen, I’m fine. I just need to rest.” Cullen gaped at her.

          “You said the fight with the Avaar chief was _mild_ ,” he hissed.

          “Well it wasn’t! He tossed me around like a toy and if Cass hadn’t been there I’d be dead! Can you please just leave me _the fuck alone?_ ” She took a few heaving breaths, wincing at the sharp movement of her ribs. Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

          “I understand you’re upset, but you need to see a healer. There could be damage you are not even aware of yet. At the very least, let me take a look at it. I’ve seen enough battle injuries to know if your life is in danger.” Nell hardly considered before she found herself nodding. Cullen sighed and bent down to pick up her pack, hooking his other arm around her waist. She protested, but he didn’t remove his hand. “Just lean on me, you stubborn woman,” he muttered.

          After several minutes of very careful walking and whispered cursing, Cullen managed to get Nell to her cabin. He helped her to the bed before shutting the door behind him. Nell chewed her lip, blushing slightly as she removed her coat. Cullen stood by the doorway, making a point of looking anywhere but her. When he heard the soft rustle of her tunic being tossed on the bed, he turned, seeing the damage for the first time.

          There wasn’t a spot on her back that wasn’t discolored and bruised. The skin was swollen and scraped. Clearly, she’d been hit repeatedly and hard. Ever so gently he extended his hand. “I need to check if your ribs are broken. May I?” he asked softly. She nodded, her hand tightening into a fist on her thigh. He knelt before her, and with a feather light tough, pressed against her sides. She whimpered and he withdrew.

          “It hurts,” she mumbled.

          “I can’t believe you were going to hide this,” he replied, touching her sides again. He felt as much as he could manage without hurting her, and with a sigh, he rose to his feet. “You have several broken ribs, probably even more than I can feel. By how your shoulder is swollen, I’d say it was dislocated recently. There isn’t any permanent damage done, but you’ll need to have a healer bind your ribs,” he said sternly. She nodded, avoiding his eyes. “I am amazed you were able to endure this much pain. You shouldn’t even be able to move, let alone ride a horse.”

          “Thank you,” Nell said softly. “I appreciate your checking on me.” Cullen nodded.

          “I’ll send a healer for you immediately,” he promised. He made his way to the door, but turned back just before he opened it. “For the love of the Maker, Herald, don’t try to go anywhere.”

          Nell chuckled and he shut the door behind him. Very slowly, she lowered herself on to her pillows, opting to sleep in her breastband rather than struggle to put her tunic back on. The healer arrived a few minutes later, hastily inspecting her again before binding her ribs with cloth. She’d arrived so quickly, Nell realized Cullen must have run to find her. The thought sent a strange nervous flutter through her belly, which she quickly ignored as she drifted to sleep.


	5. Having the Time of Our Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Redcliffe, and all the fun involved! Nell and Dorian bond over mutually experienced horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Graphic depiction of gore. Major character death (in alternate timeline). Angst and fear.

          It took weeks for Nell’s injuries to heal. Weeks, she politely reminded her advisors, they did not have to sacrifice. Still, the three of them remained steadfast in their decision to keep her in Haven.

          “Sending you to Redcliffe could be dangerous, and you need to be in the best possible health. We can sacrifice the time, Herald, but we cannot sacrifice you,” Josephine said gently. Nell huffed in frustration, although she was leaning on the table to support herself.

          “You are the only person who can close the breach,” Cullen added. Nell rolled her eyes.

          “I’m very well aware of my importance, Commander, but I am recovering well. I could make the journey to Redcliffe and meet with Grand Enchanter Fiona. We’re talking, it’s not like I’ll be seeing combat.” Cullen stiffened at this.

          “You couldn’t possibly predict how it will go-”

          “Because they’re Mages they could be unstable and attack without warning?” He sighed.

          “I’m not interested in making this a conversation about Mages or Templars. I’m only trying to protect you.” Nell crossed her arms.

          “Am I helpless?”

          Cullen groaned. “Maker, do you have to be so indignant?”

          Nell opened her mouth to argue, but Leliana slammed her fist on the table.

          “Enough!” she snapped. “I have had it with your bickering, it is getting us nowhere!” Cullen and Nell shrank underneath her hard gaze, dropping their eyes to the map. Leliana continued. “Now, I suggest you remain here another week, Herald, just to be sure, then you can proceed to Redcliffe.” Nell sighed, but she did agree, which was more than she gave the Commander. Josephine and Leliana, glad to be free of the conversation, made their exit, leaving only Nell and Cullen in the War Room. Nell ignored him, focusing instead on the Hinterlands, moving around markers aimlessly, only to replace them in their proper spots. Suddenly, Cullen rounded the table, coming up beside her.

          “You’re not helpless, but you are important. I will do anything I can to save your life, do you understand?” he said.

          “You’ve said it a thousand times, the Inquisition needs me,” Nell replied. Cullen made an exasperation sound, rubbing the back of his neck.

          “You don’t understand, then,” he murmured before sweeping out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. Nell limped back to her cabin, trying to work out what he’d meant. Cullen frustrated her endlessly, so why did her heart skip when he looked at her? Mostly she just felt confused. He was a Templar, he couldn’t possibly want anything to do with her beyond professional civility. He’d made his apprehension towards Mages extremely clear from the start, and she would be a fool to ignore that. With an exasperated sigh, Nell sank onto her pillows and pressed the heel of her palms against her eyes.

 

          Much to Nell’s chagrin, she spent the next week resting. Varric and Solas sat with her often, keeping her company. Even Cullen dropped by occasionally with a cup of tea and red cheeks. He would never stay too long, but she was always glad to see him. By the end of the week, her bruising had faded and her ribs felt more stable than they had in a long while. Aside from a little soreness, she was ready for travel. With her staff strapped to her back and her pack slung over her shoulder, she, Iron Bull, Solas, and Sera set out for Redcliffe.

          She was glad for the exuberant company on the road, having grown tired of Varric and Casssandra’s endless bickering. Sera and Bull got along well, both chattering constantly about sex and card games and the occasional petty crime. Solas remained silent, his face resting in mild disdain as he listened to them. Solas was charming and Nell liked him a lot, but he was possibly the most serious person she’d ever met. He frowned deeper at a particularly filthy joke from Sera and Nell smiled.

          Once in Redcliffe, Nell’s pleasant mood faded. It was clear from the moment they arrived that something was deeply, deeply wrong. Fiona met with the party in a tavern called The Gull and Lantern, where she promptly informed them that the rebel Mages had pledged their alliance to the Tevinter Imperium. Nell felt her stomach drop. This was not the news she’d been hoping to hear.

          Things deteriorated steadily from there. She was secretly given an extremely strange note from the Magister’s son, Felix, leading her to the chantry where a handsome Tevinter Mage helped her close a rift. This particular rift, however, was something she had never seen before. Time itself seemed to bend around her. The Mage, Dorian, with the help of Alexius’s son, explained that the Magister Alexius was a part of a cult known as the Venatori, and he has an unhealthy obsession with magically altering time. This same Magister now had control over the rebel Mages. Each new detail of the mess they were in made Nell’s head ache worse. She bid Dorian goodbye and her party raced back to Haven to deliver the news to her advisors.

          Almost immediately, they began arguing.

          “We don’t have the man power to take the castle! Either we find another way in, or give up this nonsense and go get the Templars!” Cullen said. Nell sighed and Cullen’s eyes flickered briefly to her. His gaze was almost apologetic.

          “Redcliffe is in the hands of a Magister. This cannot be allowed to stand,” Cassandra replied.

          “The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap,” Josephine interjected.

          Nell laughed. “Isn’t that kind of him? What did Alexius say about me?”

          “He is so complimentary that we are certain he wants to kill you,” Leliana said.

          “Redcliffe castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Ferelden. It has repelled thousands of assaults. If you go in there you’ll die,” Cullen said. “And we’ll lose the only means we have of closing these rifts. I won’t allow it.” Nell felt a prickle of annoyance, but his expression turned from anger to something softer, fear, perhaps? Nell couldn’t tell.

          “And if we don’t even try to meet Alexius, we lose the mages and leave a hostile foreign power on our doorstep!” Leliana snapped.

          Josephine interrupted. “Even if we could assault the keep, it would be for naught. An ‘Orlesian’ Inquisition’s army marching into Ferelden would provoke a war. Our hands are tied.”

          “The Magister-” Cassandra began.

          “Has outplayed us,” Cullen finished, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword. He scowled down at the map.

          “The Magister’s son, Felix, told me Alexius is in a cult that’s obsessed with me,” Nell said. “I doubt they’ll graciously receive our apologies and go about their business.”

          Leliana nodded. “They will remain a threat, and a powerful one, unless we act.”

          Cassandra slammed her fist on the War Table. “We cannot accept defeat now! There must be a solution.”

          “Where is the Arl of Redcliffe? I’m sure he’d help us get his castle back,” Nell suggested.

          “After he was displaced, Arl Teagan rode straight to Denerim to petition the crown for help. I doubt he’ll want our assistance once the Ferelden army lays siege to his castle.”

          “Wait,” Leliana said. “There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family. It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

          “Too risky. Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the Magister,” Cullen said.

          “That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?”

          Understanding crossed Cullen’s face and he leaned towards Leliana. “While they’re focused on Trevelyan, we could break the Magister’s defenses. It could work, but it’s a huge risk.”

          Suddenly, the large wooden doors swung open and Dorian sauntered in, all well groomed hair and smiles. “Fortunately, you’ll have help.” His voice was confident and smooth. Nell smiled at him, glad for a break from the advisors.

          “Dorian!” she exclaimed. He winked at her, taking his place at her side. Cullen somehow straightened his back even more, his face hardening as he watched Dorian.

          “Your spies will never get past Alexius’s magic without my help,” Dorian said. “So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.”

          Cullen turned to Nell. “The plan puts you in the most danger,” he said quietly. “We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this. We can still go after the Templars if you’d rather not play the bait.” He had added it quickly and casually, but Nell stiffened instantly. She narrowed her eyes at him.

          “My decision is made, Commander. I suggest you stop trying to change my mind,” she snapped. Cullen looked at her, surprised, but he nodded slowly, taking an almost unnoticeable step back. Dorian chuckled beside her and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Make the preparations, we’ll go to Redcliffe as soon as we’re ready.” With that, she turned for the door, Dorian following closely. Once they were outside in the quiet of the hallway, he leaned in.

          “I see why they put you in charge, you had your Commander practically shaking. Tell me, is he an ex-lover of yours? Or current perhaps?” Nell came to a halt.

          “Neither. He is an insufferable, uptight-”

          “Herald, could I have a moment?”

          Nell’s eyes widened and she turned to see Cullen standing behind her. Judging by his wounded dog expression, he’d been standing there long enough. She sighed and nodded. He turned back toward the war room and she followed, throwing a helpless glace back at Dorian, who laughed.

          Cullen rounded on her as soon as the door closed.

          “I’m not trying to change your mind,” he said quietly. “I’m not trying to push the Templars on you. We’ve had this conversation, I support your choice.” Nell crossed her arms.

          “Then why did you say those things?”

          “Because I don’t want to send you to your death!” he said, exasperated.

          “I understand, you need someone to close the-”

          “No,” he interrupted. “Stop assuming the only thing that worries me is endangering the Inquisition.” With this he took a small step forward, his hands clenched in to fists by his side. Nell held her breath. He rested his hand gently on her shoulder. “Please, just be safe.” He made for the door.

“Cullen, wait.” He paused. “I didn’t mean those things I said, just now. I was upset, but that doesn’t make them true.” Cullen smirked.

“I am uptight,” he replied. Nell chuckled, but when he didn’t drop his eyes from hers, she felt her face growing hot. He gave her one last smile before sweeping out of the War Room with a rustle of his fur mantle. Nell exhaled slowly and left to find Varric. She needed a drink and he was just the dwarf to provide one. They played a game of Wicked Grace in her cabin, Varric telling nonsense stories the whole time. Nell laughed obnoxiously as he tried to convince her that Cullen used to have a goatee.

“I’m telling you, he did!” Varric insisted. Nell snorted and took another drink. She set out her cards, a winning hand. Varric grumbled and dropped his cards, taking a long drink from a tankard of mead.

“What was he like? In Kirkwall, I mean.”

Varric sighed. “Different. If you think he’s an ass now, you should have seen him then. Curly hasn’t exactly had an easy go at it, though. He’s got a past even I don’t know about. He’s grown a lot since leaving the order, from what I can tell. Seeing him here in Haven was like meeting a different man.” Nell watched him carefully, but Varric’s face remained passive. “Just be patient, he’s undoing over a decade of Templar damage.” Nell nodded thoughtfully, taking another drink. She suddenly wondered what Cullen was doing at that moment. It must get cold in his little tent. She frowned, vowing to requisition some blankets for him.

She slept restlessly that night, her nerves twisted and frayed from what lay ahead of her. If all went well, she would leave with the Mages as her allies. If she failed, then she’d be dead. Eventually she grew tired of lying around worrying, so before the sun had even risen, her horse was saddled and her pack was slung over her shoulder. She glanced one last time at Haven’s walls before setting off with Iron Bull, Varric, and Dorian.

 

          At first, everything went according to plan. Nell and her group slipped in easily. When they confronted Alexius, he panicked and Nell had a brief flash of hope. Then, he pulled out a glowing amulet and in a blinding burst of green light, Nell felt the ground beneath her feet tremble. Her vision went black and there was nothing.

          She woke on the cold stone floor of a prison cell. Her head ached and there was a small trickle of blood oozing down her left temple. She pushed herself up on her knees and looked around. The cell was dimly lit and filthy. Large, glowing red crystals were protruding from the wall. They made the strangest humming noise and it gave Nell goose bumps looking at it. From behind her, she heard footsteps. Dorian hooked his hand under her arm and pulled her to her feet. Suddenly, there was a noise from the cell door and two guards drew their weapons. Nell fumbled for her staff, but Dorian was quicker. He killed them easily, leaving Nell only standing there, her hands shaking. Dorian looked around, a bit mystified.

          “Displacement? Interesting! It’s probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us… to what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?”

          “The last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall,” Nell murmured.

          “Let’s see, if we’re still in the castle, it isn’t… Oh! Of course! It’s not simply where – it’s when! Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!”

          Nell’s stomach dropped like a stone and gaped at Dorian. “Then we undo this and go back. Now!”

          “I’m not certain it’ll be a matter of snapping our fingers, but yes, I agree,” Dorian said grimly. The two of them searched the cell, finding a key on one of the dead guards. Once they were freed, they set out to find Alexius.

          Every hall was filled with the red crystals. It grew out of the walls, the floor, even doorways. Nell passed a few cells with only a skeleton inside, crystals still growing out of it. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before turning away.

          A little while later, in a dark corridor, they found Varric in a cell. The red crystals were growing directly out of his body and his eyes were glowing red. Nell’s breath caught in her throat and she bit back tears looking at his mangled form. He was alive, and he agreed to help Nell and Dorian find Alexius. By the look of cold determination in his eye, Nell knew he was ready to die for it. It made Nell’s heart ache to see her friend in such a state. He hobbled along, clearly in pain, all light from his eyes gone, replaced only the faint glowing of a dark magic.

As they continued through the castle, Nell found Iron Bull, who also joined them on their hunt for the Magister. He looked at her with vacant eyes, as if he was looking through her like glass. She put her hand on his arm and he stepped backward.

“Let’s keep going, Boss,” he said in a rough voice. Her chest felt unusually tight and she was struggling to catch her breath as the group made its way forward. She couldn’t miss the strange humming coming off of Varric’s skin as he walked beside her. She gritted her teeth and continued.

          When they found Leliana, Nell was never less happy to see the Spymaster. She looked like she’d aged years, her skin dull and scarred from Maker knows what. She glared at Nell with seething hatred.

          “How long?” Nell whispered.

          “A year since you disappeared from Redcliffe castle.”

          “What happened?” Nell asked quietly. Leliana turned to her.

          “Look around you! The world ended, Corypheus destroyed the Inquisition. Without you, everyone was slaughtered.” Nell felt her stomach roll and she clenched her staff.

          “Josephine?” she asked quietly.

          “Beheaded.”

          “Cassandra?”

          “They are all dead, Herald.” The way she accentuated her title was venomous. Nell nodded, chewing her lip.

          “Cullen?” she asked lastly, and most quietly. Leliana chuckled bitterly.

          “You’ll see,” she replied.

          As they walked, Leliana remained quiet. They were growing closer to Alexius, but they met resistance at every turn. Soldiers came from every corner, all with the same red glow. Nell was exhausted, but as she watched her friends limp on, crystals growing out of their skin, she felt a fire burn inside her that she refused to ignore. They fought their way into the Courtyard, where Nell stopped cold, her heart leaping into her throat.

          Hanging on the wall, draped in chains, was a body. It was mostly skeleton now, but pieces of decaying flesh still clung to the ribcage. The front of the skull was caved in, the face nearly crushed. Draped over the body’s shoulders was a familiar red fur mantle, now torn and stained. Nell felt a shooting pain in her knees as she collapsed. She tipped forward, vomiting on the stone. Leliana put a hand on her shoulder.

          “We must continue forward if you want to save his life. If you want to save all of us, we have to keep going.” The surprising gentleness of her voice made Nell’s eyes sting. She wiped her mouth and pushed herself up.

          “How did he die?” Nell asked. Leliana sighed.

          “He was the last of the Inquisition. Even to his death, he believed you would return. He fought for months with whoever would stand with him, but in the end, Coryphus cut him down easily. I think he embraced death. It was a release from this nightmare. By then he had realized the Maker would not be waiting for him.” She gestured to the green sky, where the breach had swallowed what was once blue. Nell clenched her jaw.

          “We are getting the fuck out of here and I’m going to make sure none of this ever happens,” she growled. Leliana gave a determined smile.

          “Hold on to that.”

           

          In the end, the only survivors were Nell and Dorian. Leliana, Varric, and Iron Bull all sacrificed themselves to get Nell back to where she was needed. She had to watch as each of them were cut down, one by one. Slaughtered like animals. Dorian pulled her by her arm through the rift as she watched numbly. The time rift closed with a crack behind her and she stepped forward, her face set in hard determination. Alexius’s eyes widened in shock. Nell swung her staff out and hit him in the temple, knocking him to the ground. She pressed a foot against his throat.

          “You failed, Alexius. How forgiving is your Elder One?” she hissed, pressing harder. Alexius held his hands up in surrender. Dorian gripped Nell’s elbow.

          “He is submitting, let it go,” he whispered. Nell clenched her fists and took a step back.

          “You won. There is no point in extending this charade,” Alexius muttered. He looked to his son. “Felix…”

          “It’s going to be alright, father,” he said.

          “You’ll die,” Alexius whimpered.

          “Everyone dies,” Felix replied simply.

          Inquisition scouts stepped forward, holding Alexius by his upper arms, taking him away. Just when Nell thought the fun was over, there was a rumble of heavy boot stomps and Queen Anora entered, joined by a unit of soldiers. The Queens eyes were narrowed in fury. Nell groaned, slumping against Dorian.

          “Chin up, precious, you saved the world,” he said, nudging her forward.

          Queen Anora promptly banished Grand Enchanter Fiona and the Mages from Ferelden, which was not unexpected. Nell, on impulse, spoke up.

          “The Mages are welcome in Haven, under the protection of the Inquisition. I’m offering you a full alliance, Fiona. I suggest you take it.”

          All eyes turned to her and she suddenly felt very small. Anora tilted her head. “That is, of course, with her Majesty’s blessing,” Nell added hastily.

          “If you wish, Herald.” Anora replied. Nell bowed.

          “Thank you, your Majesty.”

          Fiona organized her people and sent them on their way to Haven, leaving Nell’s party to travel back on their own. She wrote to her advisors before setting off.

_Advisors-_

_Redcliffe was a fucking mess. I offered the Mages a full alliance. We need them but they need us more - they’ll stay loyal due to a lack of other options. They’re on their way to Haven now, and I’ll be arriving shortly after, joined by Dorian, the man who helped us get in to the castle. I only want to explain what happened once, so please read this carefully. Any questions you have can go to Dorian, he was with me through it all._

_Alexius used magic to send me forward in time, roughly a year from yesterday. I saw firsthand the kind of world we should expect if we don’t close this breach, and it was horrific. We cannot fail. We have to close this fucking thing as soon as possible. I don’t want to see that future twice._

_Herald_

The journey dragged on for Nell, who was desperate for a bath and a bed and perhaps half a tavern worth of alcohol. She couldn’t press what she’d seen in Redcliffe from her mind. Everywhere she looked, she saw Leliana’s fury, Cullen’s crushed skull, Varric’s glowing eyes. She saw the breach swallowing the world whole. She saw everyone’s lives hanging in a precarious balance and she saw herself holding them in place. If she failed, the world would be destroyed and it would be her fault. Her stomach flipped and she took a deep breath, trying to keep from being sick again.

 

          Nell had been snagged by a scout before she’d even dismounted her horse, telling her to report to her advisors. Dorian went in ahead of her to brief them on what she’d excluded from her short note. She still wore her hunter’s coat and she hadn’t slept since Redcliffe, so her walk was sluggish.

“It’s not a matter for debate. There will be abominations among the Mages and we must be prepared.” She heard Cullen’s voice echoing through the chantry.

          “If we rescind the offer of an alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worst,” Josephine said. Nell walked up, rubbing her eyes. Cullen turned to her.

          “What were you thinking, turning Mages loose with no oversight?” he demanded. “The veil is torn open!”

          “We need them to close the breach. It’s not going to work if we make enemies of them,” Nell said tiredly.

          “I know we need them for the breach, but they could do as much damage as the demons themselves. You were there, Seeker, why didn’t you intervene?” Cullen snapped.

          “While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it,” Cassandra said calmly. “The sole point of the Herald’s mission was the gain the Mages’ aid, which was accomplished.” Cullen’s mouth hung slightly agape but his shoulders relaxed slightly.

          “The voice of pragmatism speaks! And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments,” Dorian said, rounding a pillar. Cullen bristled upon seeing him, sighing heavily. He looked to Nell again.

“Forgive me, Herald, I know you’ve endured a great deal on this mission. Perhaps your choice will prove to be a successful one.”

          “We should look into the things you saw in the dark future. The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army?” Leliana said.

          “Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do. Orlais falls, the Imperium rises, chaos for everyone!” Dorian remarked.

          “One battle at a time. It’s going to take time to organize our troops, and the Mage recruits. Let’s take this to the War Room,” Cullen added. He looked to Nell. “Join us. None of this means anything without your mark, after all.” She nodded tersely. Dorian announced his intention to stay, which improved Nell’s mood significantly, and the advisors made their way to the War Room. Just before entering, Cullen caught Nell’s elbow, holding her back.

          “Are you alright?” he asked in a low whisper. His expression was soft as he looked at her and she felt the corners of her eyes sting. She could only see his mangled body hanging in the Courtyard in Redcliffe. “I can’t imagine what you went through,” he murmured. Nell reached up, running her fingers across his cheek. He stiffened and Nell instantly pulled away, but his hand quickly closed around hers, putting it back on his cheek. His stubble was rough under her fingers.

          “I’m just glad you’re alive,” Nell said. Cullen’s eyebrows furrowed. “You have to trust me, Cullen. I know why you are hesitant to support the Mages, but I made the right decision.”

          Cullen opened his mouth, then decided against it, opting to only nod. “I trust you.”

          “You do?”

          “I do.”

          Nell smiled and they joined the others in the War Room. She felt sleep would come easier that night.


	6. Haven Gets a Little Heated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace doesn't last long with the Breach closed a little too easily. Now it's a race against the clock to get everyone out, and Nell isn't confident she'll be one of them. Cullen wrestles between his job and his feelings, but it's man against dragon, and dragon against everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Depictions of drinking. Depiction of violence. Minor character death.

          It worked. It actually fucking worked. The breach was closed and Nell was alive and the Mages had done exactly what they were supposed to. Nell cheered with the rest of the Inquisition, Dorian pressed kisses to her cheeks, Iron Bull tossed her on his shoulder and paraded her around, Varric handed her alcohol quicker than she could drink it. She tucked her cat in to her hunter’s coat and walked around with it cuddled to her chest. Eventually, it wriggled out of her jacket and padded lightly through the main hall, sniffing around people’s ankles.

          Nell felt slightly lightheaded as she stood, looking out over the people of Haven celebrating and laughing. Everyone was so full of life, it was refreshing after weeks of somber worry and despair. Cassandra came up behind her.

          “Solas confirmed the heavens are scarred but calm. The breach is sealed. We’ve reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this was a victory. Word of your heroism has spread.”

          “We don’t know what caused this,” Nell said, eyes flickering up to the scarred sky, the breach now only a pale green blotch in the clouds. “We can’t rest easy.”

          “I agree, one success does not guarantee peace,” Cassandra replied. “The immediate danger is gone. For some, so is the necessity of this alliance. We must be wary. The Inquisition will need new focus.”

           Nell nodded, shivering a little in the cold air. Fresh snow had begun to fall soon after they sealed the breach, giving Haven a clean, pure look. It was peaceful. She continued talking with Cassandra for a moment, feeling suddenly very grateful for her strong, albeit intimidating presence. They were interrupted by a quiet rumble, coming from the mountains. It grew louder as they listened, and Nell’s blood chilled as she realized what she was hearing.

          Boot stomps. By the sound of it, hundreds. An alarm bell rang from somewhere nearby but Nell only heard a buzzing in her ears. Cullen came sprinting up the steps, trailed by frantic looking scouts.

          “Forces approaching! To arms!” he bellowed. Panic spread like fire. People began running around like mice, screaming and shouting orders. Nell stood frozen for a moment, watching them scurry. Cassandra grabbed her arm.

          “What the…? We must get to the gates!” she cried, drawing her sword. Nell dashed after her, her heart thrumming painfully in her chest.

_Who the fuck was coming now?_ She and Cass skidded to a stop by the gates, where Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine were waiting.

          “Cullen?” Cassandra asked. The advisors stood before her looking anxious.

          “One watchguard reporting. It’s a massive force. The bulk over the mountain.” His voice was calm and steady and he sounded so much like a leader at that moment that Nell felt just a little bit less afraid. He glanced at her for a second, then moved his gaze back to Cassandra.

          “Under what banner?” Josephine asked.

          “None,” Cullen said. All eyes turned to him.

          “None?” Josephine breathed. Nell stared at the gates, her head spinning. Her victory had been short lived and fury twisted her guts as she realized she had another fight coming right for her. Suddenly the gates shook, and an airy voice called to them from the other side.

          “I can’t come in unless you open!” the voice cried. Nell glanced at Cullen, who shook his head, but she opened the gate anyway. A skinny teenage boy wearing a bizarre hat was approaching, two daggers in his bony hands. Nell dashed down the steps, followed by Cullen, who had drawn his sword. “I’m Cole. I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You probably already know.” He came towards Nell, hand extended.

          “What is this? What’s going on?” Nell demanded.

          “The Templars come to kill you,” Cole whispered. Cullen pushed forward, angling himself in a way that put him just slightly between Nell and Cole.

          “Templars? Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the Mages? Attacking blindly?” he snarled.

          “The Red Templars went to the Elder One. You know him? He knows you. You took his Mages.” Cole gestured wildly, coming towards Nell again. Cullen raised his sword to Cole’s chest and the skinny boy retreated, pointing to the army pouring down the mountain. “There,” he said. Cullen and Nell looked to where he pointed and Cullen’s face twisted in shock and rage.

          “I know that man…” he breathed. “But this Elder One…”

          “He’s very angry that you took his Mages,” Cole explained.

          “Cullen, give me a plan! Anything!” Nell cried.

          “Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle,” he said, eyes still fixed on the Elder One and the man beside him. He faced Nell. “Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can.” He turned to the group behind him and shouted an order. “Mages! You have sanction to engage them! That is Samson. He will not make it easy! Inquisition, with the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!” He thrust his sword into the sky but he looked at Nell and his expression faltered. He nodded once to her before running off to join the fighting.

          The Templars seemed to be endless. Varric and Solas had joined her and Cassandra to help defend Haven. Nell fought them at an exhausting pace, protecting Inquisition soldiers as much as she could. She cleared the area near the trebuchets, allowing the soldiers to use them against the enemy. Her legs were shaking and her lungs felt like they were on fire, but she was keeping her ground well. The Red Templars, as Cole had called them, were mutilated shells of human beings. They had the same glowing red crystals growing out of them, some only towering monsters now. They didn’t even seem human, Nell didn’t understand how they were Templars, or why they were in Haven.

          The trebuchets did their work, and for a fleeting moment, they paused to breathe, some even cheering. The glimmer of hope was soon extinguished as an ear splitting shriek echoed off of the mountains. A massive black dragon came swooping over Haven, shrieking again. Nell’s stomach clenched.

          “Everyone to the gates!” she cried, waving her hands frantically. They launched up the path, moving as fast as their tired limbs could manage. Cullen stood at the gates, shoving people inside.

          “Move it, move it!” he yelled. They scrambled in and Nell helped him pull the gates shut. “We need everyone back to the chantry! It’s the only building that might hold against… that beast!” He turned to Nell, his face set in fury. “At this point, just make them work for it.” Nell watched him stomp up the steps and she felt the rush of fear roll through her. She couldn’t breathe, her chest was too tight. But still, she kept running.

          Once inside Haven, she could hear the screaming. Houses and cabins everywhere were burning, and by the sounds coming from within, many weren’t empty. She fought off Red Templars like it was the last thing she’d ever do, because it probably was. People called for help from behind burning doorways, but she couldn’t save all of them. Cassandra broke down doors, pulling people out of the flames, but it was slow going, and sometimes the voices only stopped. Nell choked back tears as she listened to another cabin go silent.

          No matter how hard they fought, their resistance wasn’t enough. For every Red Templar she killed, three more took their place. Finally, she was forced to go to the chantry. Chancellor Roderick stood by the door, helping people in. He was hunched over, clutching his blood soaked stomach. By the way he wheezed, Nell could see he wasn’t too far from death. Nell darted in. Cole was by Roderick’s side, holding him under the arms.

          “He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went in deep. He’s going to die”

          “What a charming boy,” Roderick grunted.

          “Herald!” Cullen came running to her. “Are you injured?” She shook her head and he sighed in relief. Nell crouched by Roderick, reaching out to heal him. He waved her away.

          “Save your energy, Herald, you’re going to need it,” he choked. Nell nodded. The fire of the candles reflected orange in his glassy eyes. Orange. _Where the fuck was her cat?_ It was silly and reckless but she thought of the helpless little thing in the snow and she wanted to cry. She lurched up, dashing for the door. Cullen seized her around the waist.

          “Where in the void are you going?” he cried. She kicked, trying to escape.

          “My cat! I left my cat! They are going to kill him!” she shouted. Cullen held her until she stilled.

          “If you go back out there now you’ll die. I’m sorry about your cat, Herald, but we have bigger problems.” Nell sniffed, but she agreed, turning back to face Cullen. “Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

          “I’ve seen an archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that,” Cole mused.

          “I don’t care what it looks like!” Cullen growled. “It has cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”

          “The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

          Cullen turned to Nell, his face going white. “I don’t care what he wants. How do I stop him?” she snapped.

          “It won’t be easy. He has a dragon,” Cole murmured, looking a bit dreamy. Cullen sighed loudly.

          “We know what he…” he shook his head. “Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

          “We’re overrun. To hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven!” Nell said. Cullen clenched his jaw and nodded.

          “We’re dying, but we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice,” he said firmly. Nell only stared at him for a moment, feeling quite scared and more than a little like crying.

          “Yes, that,” Cole whispered. “Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

          Nell listened as Roderick presented the only sliver of hope they had at saving anyone from Haven. Nell’s hands were balled into fists and she took a deep breath. There was a path that could get them out, and Nell would stop at nothing to get the people there. “If that thing is here for me, I’ll make him fight for it,” Nell promised. Cullen put his hand on her shoulder.

          “And when the mountain falls? What about you?” His voice was small, scared even. Nell smiled halfheartedly at him before shaking her head a little. His face fell and he swallowed. “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…” he murmured. He barked orders to the nearby soldiers and they set to work. Cole helped Roderick limp away. Cullen turned back to her. “They’ll load the trebuchets,” he said, pointing after his soldiers. “Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line. If we are to have a chance – if _you_ are to have a chance – let that thing hear you.” Almost as an afterthought, he reached out and took Nell’s hand, squeezing it tightly. She squeezed back before shoving him after Roderick and Cole. He went reluctantly.

          “Keep them safe, Cullen,” she said. He nodded before turning away.

 

 

          If Tirnella thought she was afraid before, it was nothing compared to how she felt when she finally faced this Elder One, Coryhpeus, the ugly fuck with a dragon. He tried to remove her mark, and Nell screamed in pain. Her whole arm ached and she bit her lip, drawing blood. Corypheus towered over her, talking in a frightening monotone. He held her up by her wrist, her feet dangling high off the ground, then tossed her to the nearby trebuchet, her head slamming against the wood. She lunged for a sword that had been dropped on the ground beside her. She held it in shaking hands. Cullen was right, she was dying, but she would decide how.

          Just over the tree line, she saw a small ball of flame shoot upwards. Her signal had arrived. With one last deep breath, she looked Corypheus in the eye.

          “Fuck you, Corypheus,” she spat, kicking the trebuchet release. The machine fired and Corypheus spun to watch in surprise. Nell shot off like an arrow, running as fast as she could. Just as the snow hit, she tumbled down a hill and her vision went black.

 

         

She woke in a cave, her head aching like it was split in two. Blood was running down her arm from a deep gash just below her shoulder, and her left wrist felt broken, but she was alive, somehow. She shivered in the freezing cave, unsure of where she even was. The avalanche had buried whatever passage she’d fallen through, leaving only one direction left to go. She climbed to her feet, gritting her teeth as her body screamed in protest.

          She wasn’t done fighting yet.

 

 

          The survivors had set up a decent camp, all things considered. People tended to the wounded as best they could and fires were lit to fend off the bite of the snow. Cullen paced, his brow creased even more than normal. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold and his breath came out in puffs of steam. Cassandra approached him, offering a blanket. He refused.

          “Give it to someone who needs it. I’m going to find her,” he said. Cassandra sighed.

          “Cullen, give it up,” she said quietly. “The Herald sacrificed herself to save our lives. You saw the avalanche she caused. She is dead, Commander. Don’t dishonor her by freezing to death in some stubborn, pointless attempt to find her.”

          “I can’t believe you would say that. She never gave up on us, why would I give up on her now?” he snarled. Cass looked at him with pity.

          “She is likely dead.”

          “Do you think I haven’t thought of that every second since we left Haven? Do you think I’m a fool? I know she is probably dead, Cassandra, but I’ll die before I just sit here without trying!” He turned away from her, throat tightening. “At the very least we could try to find a body. Or, what’s left of one.” His eyes were stinging.

“I did not realize you felt so deeply for her,” Cassandra said. Cullen huffed, crossing his arms.

“I don’t,” he snapped. “But going after her is the right thing to do.” Cassandra grumbled to herself and picked up her sword from where it lay by the fire, then stuffed the blanket into her pack and hoisted it over her shoulder.

          “If you insist on this ridiculous suicide mission, then I insist on coming with you.”

          On their way out, Iron Bull and Varric joined in as well. Their faces were about as hopeless as everyone else’s. The group slogged through the snow, sinking in almost to their knees, or in Varric’s case, his waist. Cullen led the group, squinting against the icy wind. He’d long lost feeling in his fingers and his face, but what bothered him most was the nagging fear in his gut. The last time he’d seen her, she had looked so scared. If she was dead, she had died frightened and alone. He felt a pang of guilt.

          _I should have been there with her. Oh, Maker, why did I leave?_

          They searched for a dangerously long time; even Cullen’s hope was fading. He was shivering violently, his body heat dwindling. The others appeared to be just as worn out. He paused, looking helplessly to Cassandra. She scanned the horizon, and suddenly her eyes widened. She grabbed Cullen’s arm and pointed to a small black lump resting in the snow, nearly thirty feet away. Cullen lurched forward, his breath catching in his throat. As he got closer, he saw the frayed edge of a coat he recognized so well. He dropped to his knees beside it, pushing away handfuls of snow. Nell whimpered a little, her eyes cracking open when he lifted her up to a sitting position.

          “Cullen? Are you… are you real?” she said in a cracked whisper.

“I’ve got you, Herald, you’re safe now,” he said. He instantly began tearing at his armor, his breastplate falling to the snow with a soft thud. Cassandra dropped to her knees beside him, hastily shoving the pieces in her pack. Once he was down to only the smaller pieces of metal and his tunic, he crushed Nell to his chest. Cassandra wrapped the blanket around the both of them, keeping Nell pressed against him. Cullen wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. Whatever heat he had left, he was going to give it all to her. She whimpered again and he pushed himself to his feet and took off running. The others sped after him, barely able to keep up. He was moving like there was an archdemon on his heels, tearing back towards the camp.

          “Solas!” he bellowed as soon as the camp was in sight. “We found the Herald!”

          The elf came forward. “Bring her here, by the fire,” he instructed. Cullen collapsed, kneeling by the fire, chest heaving. Solas pushed the edge of the blanket aside and peered at Nell, his small fingers brushing her forehead. “Her body temperature is dangerously low. If we can’t get her warm, she’ll be dead within the hour.”

          “I’ll stay with her by the fire-”

          “No, it’s too exposed. The wind alone will make the fire useless. Get her in a tent, and quickly. I’ll fetch Dorian, he can bring more supplies.”

          Cullen obeyed. His soldiers set up a spare tent, putting a wooden cot and a bedroll inside. He set her on the cot gently, tucking the blanket it around her. She twitched a little, her face tight in pain. It occurred to him that he hadn’t even bothered to check for injuries. Hesitantly, he put his hand under the blanket, not wanting to remove her only source of warmth, and felt for blood. His hand slid down her left arm, then her right. He cursed when he felt the warm, sticky blood drying on her shoulder. His hands continued downwards, skating over her abdomen and her hips. His cheeks went red as he felt down her thighs and calves. Relived to only find blood in one place, he withdrew his hand and placed it instead on her cheek. Her skin was ice to touch. His stomach twisted and he realized he still might lose her.

          Solas rushed in, followed by Dorian and Cassandra.

          “She has a cut on her shoulder, I’m not sure how bad, or how much blood she’s lost,” Cullen said swiftly. Solas bent down to look at her, drawing the blanket down to inspect the wound. He pressed his hand over it and his skin began to glow. Nell gasped in her sleep and writhed beneath him, her face pained. Cullen held her still until Solas finished. When he removed his hand, the wound was sealed, leaving only a pink scar behind. Cullen shivered. Witnessing magic never became easier. Carefully, Dorian and Solas stripped her soaked, frozen clothes, leaving her in only her underclothes. Cullen blushed furiously. Dorian piled two more blankets on her, but Solas was still frowning.

          “She is too cold. Even with the blankets, she is hardly producing enough heat to warm herself. She needs-”

          “Another body,” Cullen finished. Solas’s eyes flickered over and he nodded. “You and Dorian should help the other injured people. There isn’t anything I can do that’s useful except stay here and keep her alive.”

          No one argued, although Dorian offered a questioning quirk of his eyebrows, which Cullen elected to ignore. Solas and Dorian left to provide healing magic for the struggling survivors, and Cassandra went out to help put up more tents and divvy out supplies. Cullen watched Nell’s face, her expression still pained. He awkwardly stripped away what was left of his armor. He chose to leave his clothes on in case she woke, knowing it would probably frighten her if he was naked. He climbed into the cot beside her and pulled her small form against his chest, piling the blankets around them both and up around her head. Her forehead was pressed against his collar bone and he could feel little puffs of warm air as she took shallow breaths. He tried to cover every part of her that he could, praying she wouldn’t wake and panic at the odd position the two of them were in. It was the most physical contact they’d ever had, yet there was nothing remotely arousing or enticing about it for Cullen. He only lay there, gripped with fear and worry, his hands rubbing her back softly, hoping the friction would help. For over an hour, he lay there in silence. Solas came in occasionally to check on her, but he never stayed long. Eventually, the events of the night had finally caught up with Cullen, and he couldn’t fight the sleep that came.

          He awoke hours later to Nell squirming next to him. Instantly, he opened his eyes and lifted himself on his elbow to look at her. “Herald, are you alright?” he asked. She groaned.

          “It’s too hot,” she said, her voice a mix between groggy and whiny.

          Cullen only gaped at her, his mouth hanging open slightly before he started laughing. “Maker, we’ve been waiting for hours to hear you say that,” he said. She winced and lifted her left hand.

          “I broke my wrist,” she said. “My shoulder isn’t tingling anymore. Solas?” Cullen nodded.

          “If we’d noticed your wrist, it’d be fixed too. I’ll go get him.” Nell shook her head.

          “Don’t bother, I want to sleep more.”

          “You have a broken wrist,” he exclaimed. She rolled her eyes.

          “I was also buried in an avalanche. Believe me, a broken wrist is nothing.” Cullen reached out and lightly tapped her wrist with his finger. She cursed loudly and elbowed his chest. “Alright, fuck you, go get Solas,” she snapped. He extracted himself from the pile of blankets and did as she asked, feeling more relaxed than he had since they went to close the breach. The elf went to her tent immediately, but Cullen stayed out, already uncomfortable with how close they’d been.

          _For Andraste’s sake, Rutherford, you were trying to save her life, she understands that._

          He shook his head and sank by the fire. The boy, Cole, sat nearby, legs crossed. He watched Cullen intently.

          “A spot against the snow, a flash of hope, he wanted to hold her but not like this, please let her live, please let her live, please-”

          “Stop that!” Cullen growled. Cole cocked his head to the side.

          “She isn’t hurting anymore, thanks to you,” he said softly. Cullen grumbled and looked away, but the stinging in his eyes was impossible to ignore. He pressed the heels of his palm to his eyes and rubbed away the wetness before it was visible to any onlookers. Why was it when he saw the Templars marching down over the mountains, he thought of Nell first? Why did his stomach twist and his heart ache when he watched her leave the chantry, knowing it would likely be the last time he ever saw her? Even buried in snow, minutes from death, her eyes made his breath catch, and he didn’t know why. Cole still watched him, a confused look on his face.

          “You know why,” he observed. Cullen scowled at him.

          “Not one more word, Cole.”

          The boy was gone a moment later and Cullen couldn’t exactly recall what he’d said to him.


	7. A New Home to Worry About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisition makes Skyhold theirs, but it's not quite a home yet. Cullen has a gift for Tirnella, much to her surprise. Dorian faces an old pain, then the gang faces a bigger threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Homophobia/parental abandonment. Descriptions of gore. Major character injury.

Nell slept a lot the first few days after losing Haven. Solas continued checking her injuries, making sure they had healed properly, but he couldn’t fix how tired she was. She spent most of her time in her tent recovering, with her companions cycling through constantly. She missed her cat, longing for the familiar purring warmth cuddled against her chest. Her tent felt lonely and cold. Two nights after Haven, she wandered the camp, inspecting the state of things. Unsurprisingly, it was miserable. Everyone who had survived seemed to be either injured or sick or grieving. Nell comforted people the best she could, but there just weren’t enough blankets to go around, enough potions to heal burns, or enough people on the list of those who lived. And yet, people were never unhappy to see her. They always smiled, even those close to death, and that made Nell feel useful. At the very least, she brought comfort to those who needed it.

          She also spent a lot of time with the odd boy, Cole, who spoke mostly in nonsensical riddles, but he brought Nell a great deal of peace. They were sitting by the fire together, Cole telling her a story about bunnies, when she felt a thick blanket being draped on her shoulders. She turned to find Cullen walking away, rubbing the back of his neck. She pulled it tighter, her body still cold, but her cheeks were suddenly quite hot.

          “He worries so much, I can hear the hurting from far away,” Cole mumbled.

          “About me?” Nell asked.

          “About everything, but especially you. You are the sun, too bright to look at, but you make things quiet.”

          Nell didn’t reply, choosing instead to stare absently into the flickering fire. It was Solas who approached her next. He led her away from the camp, his stride elegant and purposeful. He told her of a fortress he knew of – one the Inquisition needed desperately. Skyhold, he called it. Nell’s eyes flickered back to the glowing fires of the camp, she could hear singing, quiet on the mountain wind. Solas put his hand on her shoulder.

          “This Inquisition can survive. Lead your people North, carve a path for them, take them to safety.”

          She trumped back to camp, spotting Cullen and Cassandra standing by a fire, arguing. Nell approached them, blanket still draped on her shoulder.

          “I have a place for us,” Nell announced. Cullen and Cassandra looked at her with frowning faces.

          “Perfect timing, Cullen and I were just discussing a permanent solution to our recent loss of Haven,” Cassandra said.

          “We’ll leave at dawn tomorrow,” Nell said. “I want these people behind stone walls as soon as possible. I will not allow more death.”

          “Are you alright, Herald? You should not be on your feet so soon after-”

          “Please, I’ve had enough people worried about me to last a lifetime. Ready our people, we will not waste time.”

          With that, Nell returned to the fire, where Varric was telling Cole stories. Cole’s eyes fixated on her as she sat, but he said nothing.

         

          Skyhold was stunning, despite being mostly a heap of rubble. The stone walls were high and sturdy, and Nell could feel the place humming with ancient magic. One look at it told her she was safe, and that was something she hadn’t felt since the Templars attacked Haven. The Inquisition took its place within the ancient fortress, everyone bustling around to begin reparations. The Great Hall, complete with a massive shattered chandelier in the middle, led to Nell’s quarters, still filled with rubble and nesting animals, and the War Room, which lacked the table and map they required. Her advisors stood in the Great Hall, looking around with apprehension and a distinct look of disappointment.

          “This is what we have to work with?” Cullen asked incredulously.

          “The fortress needs… repairs, but it is sturdy,” Josephine said, though she bore the same look of uncertainty.

          “It’s perfect,” Nell murmured, looking up at the massive windows at the far side of the hall. “Get to work as soon as we’re able on repairs. Focus on fortification. Make this place strong. Then, if we can, begin work on repairing the smaller things we’ll need to live here – a kitchen, a blacksmith, a stable, and so on. I even saw what looked to be a garden through that door. We could grow herbs for the healers, or even food. I’ll set out as soon as possible to collect the coin and supplies we’ll need to make this possible. The Inquisition will not be decimated like it was at Haven, I will not allow it. Skyhold will work, I am sure of it.”

          The advisors bowed and Nell dismissed them to begin their work. She was left alone, permitted to wander wherever she liked. She pushed her way into every corridor that wasn’t collapsed, climbed every staircase that wasn’t rotted away. After a few hours, she’d mapped the accessible parts of Skyhold. More would reveal themselves as the repairs continued, she was sure, but for the moment, she had seen what she needed. A small cot and bed roll were placed in her quarters, but Josephine assured her it was a temporary solution. Nell didn’t mind, she was just glad to have walls around her at night again.

          It was late in the afternoon when Cassandra came to find her, asking that she follow her to the main staircase. Nell paused when she looked up and saw her Josephine and Leliana standing at the bend in the stairs, watching her. One glance over the edge into the courtyard confirmed that most, if not all, of the Inquisition appeared to be watching her too. Cullen stood among them, his eyes on Nell. His scarred lip was lifted into his trademark smirk. She looked at Cassandra, confused.

          “The Inquisition needs a leader,” Cassandra explained, a smile on her lips. “Someone who has already been leading it.”

          Maker, the sword they handed her next seemed to be as big as her body. She took it in slightly unsteady hands, glancing to Josephine, who nodded. The sword was jewel encrusted and ornate, clearly for decoration more than combat. Cullen drew his sword in the courtyard bellow, addressing the people standing around him. He rallied them into a cheering frenzy, lifting his sword to her, a proud smile on his lips. Nell swallowed, feeling suddenly quite silly as she hoisted the sword nearly twice her height into the air. The crowd cheered again and her advisors bowed.

          That night, after the celebrations died down, Nell made her way to her meager quarters and fell into the deepest sleep she’d had in days. She was glad to have walls around her and a door to lock, even if the walls had holes in them.

Cullen, unfortunately, was stuck in a tent in the courtyard still, while the reparations were made for what would become his office and sleeping quarters. He had a small wooden table set in the courtyard, standing in as a desk, with reports and papers spread out across the top. Nell wandered over and watched him leaning over the papers, scribbling things and handing out orders to the soldiers standing at his side.

“Send men to scout the area, we need to know what’s out there,” he said. The woman beside him saluted.

“Yes, Sir!”

“Commander, soldiers have been assigned temporary quarters.”

“Very good, I’ll need an update on the armory as well,” Cullen said to the other scout beside him. The scout was distracted, staring across the courtyard. Cullen snapped at him. “Now!”

Nell laughed and Cullen raised his head. Upon seeing Nell, he swallowed and straightened his back.

“We set up as best we could at Haven, but could never prepare for an archdemon, or whatever it was. With some warning, we might have-”

“Do you ever sleep?” Nell interrupted. Though her tone was teasing, it was an honest question. Cullen’s eyes were dull and tired looking. He had the appearance of a man who hadn’t shut his eyes in weeks. Cullen sighed.

“If Corypheus strikes again we may not be able to withdraw, and I wouldn’t want to. We must be ready. Work on Skyhold is underway, guard rotation established, we should everything on course within the week. We will not run from here, Inquisitor.” He looked at her with fire in his eyes and she nodded slowly.

“How many were lost?” Nell asked quietly.

“Most of our people made it to Skyhold. It could have been worse. Morale was low, but it’s improved greatly since you accepted the role of Inquisitor.”

“Inquisitor Trevelyan,” Nell sighed. “I wasn’t looking for another title. It sounds a bit odd, don’t you think?” Cullen smiled, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners.

“Not at all,” he said softly.

“Is that the official response?” Nell asked, laughing. Cullen chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I suppose it is. But it’s the truth. We needed a leader, you have proven yourself.”

At this, Nell raised her eyebrows. “ _You_ approve of my leadership?” she asked. Cullen leaned forward a bit, his hands flat on the table.

“Whose idea did you think it was?”

“I knew that ridiculous sword had to be your contribution.” Cullen rolled his eyes and glanced down at the reports on the table for a moment. Nell cleared her throat. “Our escape from Haven – it was close. I’m relieved that you… that so many made it out.” Her cheeks turned pink and she tugged on the end of her braid, looking away from Cullen’s piercing stare.

“As am I,” he whispered. Nell smiled at him and hurried to go, suddenly feeling very awkward standing in front of him. She felt his gloved hand close around hers and he turned her back to him. He was upset, she could tell. His eyebrows were creased and his mouth was turned down in a frown. “You stayed behind. You could have… I will not allow the events at Haven to happen again. You have my word.” Nell stared at him, her heart fluttered. She squeezed his hand.

“Thank you, Cullen,” she breathed. He nodded stiffly, letting go of her hand and taking a step backward.

“Should you need anything, I’ll be here, Inquisitor.”

“Come on, Cullen, don’t you think it’s time you addressed me by name?” Nell asked.

“That wouldn’t be appropriate, Inquisitor.”

Nell’s heart sank and she turned away, walking back up the steps to her quarters. One minute Cullen looked like he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her, and the next he addressed her with disinterest and stifling professionalism. All of it made her head ache. She couldn’t keep up with his ever shifting moods. She slept restlessly that night in her drafty quarters. The wind whistled through holes in the stone, and she could hear mice skittering across the floor. She drew her blanket in tight around her and shut her eyes, trying to stop Corypheus’ voice from echoing in her head.

She woke the next morning, and while heading across the courtyard, she found Cassandra, Vivienne, Cole, and Solas arguing. The boy, Cole, turned out to not be a boy at all, but a spirit from the Fade, one of compassion . Though Cassandra and Vivienne demanded Nell banish him from Skyhold, Nell and Solas both disagreed. Cole was sweet and Nell would not see him thrown into the snow.

“I just want to help,” Cole mumbled, wringing his hands in front of his stomach. “I came here to help people.” Nell looked pointedly at Cassandra.

“He’s harmless.”

“You don’t know that, Inquisitor!”

“His purpose is to help people, not to harm them,” Solas said airily.

“Give him a chance, Cass. If he does anything to cause trouble, I’ll personally make sure he is removed from Skyhold,” Nell said forcefully. Cassandra pressed her lips in a hard line and huffed, but she said nothing else. The small group disbanded, but Cole hung by Nell’s shoulder.

“You believe I can help,” Cole said. Nell nodded. “I will,” he promised. Nell went to look over her shoulder at him, but he had vanished, and she couldn’t remember when exactly he’d walked away.

 

          Now that she was Inquisitor, it seemed everyone wanted a piece of her attention. From all sides, people asked her for favors. Mother Giselle approached her with a sealed letter she claimed was addressed to Dorian. She asked Nell to take him to Redcliffe to meet his father, then in a hushed whisper, advised her to lie to him to get him there. Nell nodded thoughtfully, taking the letter.

          “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, bidding Mother Giselle goodbye.

          The second she was done, she ran to find Dorian.

          “Ah, the Inquisitor herself graces me with her presence. Tell me, my dear, how does being the leader suit you?” he said when she found him. She rolled her eyes, flopping into the chair next to him.

          “Everyone bows when I walk by and Cullen refuses to call me by my name,” she grumbled. Dorian laughed.

          “I’m sure that drives you mad,” he remarked. “But you certainly wear the part well, I think.” Nell laughed bitterly.

          “I didn’t come to talk about me, Dorian. I have a letter for you,” Nell said, putting the envelope on the table beside him. “Dorian, I won’t lie to you. It’s from your father, he tried to use me to trick you into meeting with him in Redcliffe.”

          Dorian peered at the letter, his face set in hard lines of fury. “The nerve of that man, using my friends as pawns in his game,” he muttered. Nell watched him read the letter apprehensively. He sighed when he finished it.

          “Dorian, I think we should go. Just to see what he has to say. I’ll go with you, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything to you,” Nell promised. Dorian took her hand.

          “I have a bit of explaining to do first.”

          He spoke softly as he told her the story – his preference for men, his father’s cruelty, and his own liberation from his family’s legacy. Nell had never seen him so serious and without grandiose cockiness. It chilled her to witness it.

 

          By Dorian’s agreement, and Nell’s urging, they agreed to return to Redcliffe, with Sera and Iron Bull set to join them. Nell informed her advisors of her departure, and they assured her they could keep Skyhold moving in her absence. Cullen, of course, worried.

          “Everything about this mission is suspicious, Inquisitor,” he said, hands on the pommel of his sword. “How can we be sure it isn’t an assassination in disguise? You said yourself this letter was passed through many hands, there’s no way of knowing its true origin.”

          “I have Iron Bull with me, no assassin would stand a chance,” Nell assured him. He sighed, but did not press any further. “Listen, Dorian needs me to go with him. It’s a personal favor for someone I care about. I’ll spend some time in the Hinterlands doing work for the Inquisition while I’m there. Everything is going to be fine.”

 

          The night before her departure, Nell was in her quarters, stuffing clothes and maps into her pack, when a knock sounded from the door down the stairs.

          “Come in, it’s unlocked,” she called.

          Cullen appeared at the top of the stairs, holding a small crate in his hands. Nell raised her eyebrows.

          “Good evening, Cullen. What can I do for you?”

          He set the crate on the end of her cot. “Open it,” he said quietly. Nell obeyed, prying open the top. She gasped softly.

          “No, that’s not possible. That’s not fucking possible. How did you find him?” she cried. Inside the crate her cat lay stretched out over a blanket. He had the same blind eye, and the same orange fur. The little creature peered up at her and purred. She reached in and pulled him out, holding him to her chest, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

          “I sent soldiers to scour the ruin of Haven. While they were there, I suggested they keep an eye out for a little orange cat. By some miracle, the thing was alive, sleeping in the rubble of your old cabin. It seems your cat knew where home was.”

          Nell whimpered, burying her face in the cat’s fur. Cullen laughed softly beside her. “Thank you so much, Cullen. Maker, I don’t know why I love this stupid cat so much, but I’m so happy he survived.”

          “You seem to have the luckiest animal in all of Thedas. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to attend to. Goodnight, Inquisitor.”

          He bowed before making his way out of the room. Nell watched him go, feeling a tremendous amount of feelings. She let the cat explore her room, feeling a swell of odd maternal pride when it caught a mouse from inside the closet. After a while, she fell asleep, her cat curled up against her chest, purring loudly.

          Her last thought before she finally fell asleep was the way Cullen smiled at her when she opened the crate.

 

          The party left at dawn, and with her cat left in Cole’s care, she felt at ease. It felt good to be on a mission again, after so many days of inactivity. Her hands twitched at the idea of combat, and Bull chattered endlessly about dragons and “everlasting glory.” Dorian rolled his eyes, but Nell noticed a bashful smile hidden under his mustache.

          The light mood of the group evaporated when they arrived at the Gull and Lantern to see Dorian’s father. Nell and Dorian went in alone, with Nell gripping his hand tightly.

          His father was despicable. Nell tasted bile in her mouth listening to him speak, watching the anguish on Dorian’s handsome features. She just didn’t understand how a man could reject his son so cruelly. With some urging, Dorian agreed to leave, throwing one last look to his father before Nell pulled him out into the sunlight.

          He slumped against the wall of the tavern.

          “Andraste’s ass, you’d think it’d be easier after all these years,” he muttered. “Thank you for being here with me, but I would like a few days to think. I’ll head back to Skyhold, you finish your work here.”  

          “Will you be safe on your own?” Nell asked. Dorian kissed her cheek.

          “I’ll manage.”

          As soon as Dorian was gone, she, Bull, and Sera set out to wander the countryside, looking to finish a few tasks Nell hadn’t completed the first time she’d been there. It was late afternoon when they happened upon a dragon, resting peacefully in a field. Bull practically begged her to let him fight it.

          “Absolutely not,” she whispered, tugging him back behind the rock they were hiding behind.

          “Oh come on, Boss. One little dragon, and it’s asleep! What could go wrong?” His excitement got the better of him and his voice grew louder. It echoed around the little glen, and with a flash of fear, Nell heard the dragon’s roar. With a great pounding of massive feet, the dragon came bounding their way. Nell whipped the staff off of her back.

          “Oh for fuck’s sake, Bull, go, Sera and I will cover you!” Nell hissed, knowing they were out of options.

          Despite the odds, the fight was going well for them for a while. Sera shot arrows at the creature’s eyes and soft belly, while Bull attacked from below. Nell kept a safe distance away, firing off every spell she knew. She was growing tired, and her magic was growing weaker. Suddenly, Sera swore beside her.

          “I’m out of arrows!” she cried. Nell grunted, sending a fireball at the dragon. The beast roared.

          “See if you can-” She was interrupted by something thick and heavy slamming into her side. She felt a searing pain on her ribs and she tasted blood in her mouth. She collapsed on the ground as the dragon’s tail swung back around to strike again. Dangling off the edge of one of the tail spikes was a strip of her tunic and a bit of red that looked to be skin. She rolled to the side in time to miss the second attack. Nell’s vision went spotted. Sera was by her side, pressing against her wound, trying to keep it from bleeding out. Bull cried out and leapt onto the dragon, driving his axe between the beast’s eyes.

          The sky went black and Nell went numb.

 

          She awoke in a tent, once again with a bandaged ribcage. She went to speak, but her mouth felt like it was made of stone. She rolled her head to the side and saw Bull seated beside her, hands folded in his lap. He looked up at her.

          “Boss… I’m so sorry. I should have listened. I’m so sorry,” he murmured. Nell reached over and weakly patted his knee.

          “It’s done, Bull. Don’t let it trouble you. Am I going to live?” she asked.

          “Yes. We managed to find a healer in town, you’ve been unconscious for four days. You were minutes from death when we got here, but Evette patched you up nice. When you’re ready, we can take you to Skyhold to rest up there. I’ll carry you the whole way myself.”

          Nell chuckled, but it made her skin stretch uncomfortably, and she winced. “Maker, I get why Cullen worries. Every time I come back from a mission, I’m wounded. You’d think at least one trip wouldn’t result in weeks of bed rest after.”

          Bull grimaced, guilt on his face. Nell patted his knee again. “We’ll leave at dawn.”

          “Hey Boss?”

          “Hmm?”

          “Let’s not fight any dragons for a while.”

 

Nell and her party traveled slowly, yet again due to Nell’s injuries. She was growing tired of being carried and bandaged. She always seemed to be the one that came back hurt. After several days, Skyhold’s towers came into view and Nell’s stomach clenched in nervousness.

          Cullen was right and he was going to be so frustrated, she knew it. She could already see the disapproving frown on his face and it made her angry.

          The horn sounded when they approached the gates, and Bull held her a little tighter. A small crowd had gathered to greet them, and they fell silent as Nell came in to view, limp and bloodied in Bull’s arms. She squeezed her eyes shut. There was a loud stomp of boots on the dirt as several soldiers ran over.

          “Get that freaky elf with the magic, alright?” Sera said sharply. “Tell him Quizzie is injured. Bad.”

          There was a rush of frantic activity as everyone tried to help Nell. She remained quiet as Sera and Cassandra undressed her and cleaned the blood from her skin. Solas came in, his brow furrowed as he inspected her wound. He used as much magic as he could, but eventually had to only bandage it and let her rest. As Solas left, Cullen came sweeping in, his brow furrowed.

          Nell flinched. “Come to reprimand me, Commander? Come to tell me I’m a reckless idiot?” she snapped. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and took a deep breath before going to her side slowly. He knelt and took her hand. “Absolutely not. You’re badly injured, the last thing you deserve is my anger. Bull told me the story, he’s beside himself with guilt. What happened was an accident and it’s over. I won’t make things worse for you. Are you in pain?” he asked softly. She nodded.

          “So much. It wasn’t even my fucking idea, Cullen. Iron Bull woke the fucking thing up and I knew we couldn’t outrun it. Once again, I’m bedridden while all of Thedas waits for me to do something!” She felt tears stinging at her eyes and she dropped her gaze. Cullen ran his thumb along the bones of her knuckles.

          “That isn’t your concern right now. Solas did a great deal of healing. You’ll have a scar, but you should really only be bedridden for a week or so. Please, let yourself heal.”

Nell tried to reach for him but it caused a stab of pain from her side. She winced.

          “Help me lie down then,” she muttered. Cullen gently held on to her shoulders, easing her back against the pillows. He brought the blanket up to her chest before sitting beside her again. She wasn’t quite sure when she finally fell asleep, all she was aware of was the warmth of Cullen’s large, calloused hands around her small ones. He stayed with her as much as he was able while her wounds healed, and it did only take a week or so before she was on her feet again. It hurt to move, but she could do paperwork and wander the keep as normal. Bull seemed to apologize every time he saw her, but she waved it off.

          Injuries, it seemed, were just part of her life now.

          Though Cullen said nothing, she could tell he was concerned about her. He watched her movements carefully, his lips pressed into a hard line. Once, she stumbled on her way up the main staircase, her hand instinctively flying to her ribs. He caught her elbow and righted her.

          “You fall more than any woman I’ve ever met in my life,” he murmured, smirking a little. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before heading down the steps, rubbing the back of his neck as he went. Before he reached the bottom, he turned back. “Watch your step, Inquisitor. If you need anything you know where to find me.”

          Nell rolled her eyes at him, but she swore she saw him smiling.

         

 

 

 


	8. Please, Just Hold Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has a strange evening, but he can't say it upsets him. Maybe their civility will last this time, but with their tempers and baggage, friendship might not be in the cards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mentions of death. Pain/Trauma. Mention of addiction. Brief description of mild violence.

          Cullen Rutherford had always been a light sleeper, but in the years since Kinloch Hold, his sleep became fitful and restless, plagued by demons and horrors he couldn’t dislodge from his mind. His sleeping, if he could get any at all, was light and shallow. More often than not, he simply lay there, counting what constellations he could recognize through the hole in his roof. He would breathe in slowly and breathe out even slower. Most of the time, this would lull him into sleep for a few minutes before he would wake, gasping for air, covered in sweat. That night was one of those familiar nights, tense and restless. So, when he felt the edge of his bed dip down, and the sheets rustle as someone slipped beneath the covers, he jolted awake instantly, hand groping for a sword no longer strapped to his hip. Eyes wide, he searched the darkness for a face to the intruder. While he entertained many possibilities, a teary eyed Inquisitor did not cross his mind once. He made a strangled sound in his throat. She pulled the blankets up to her chin and bit her lip nervously. Instantly, his heart fluttered and a red blush spread over his cheeks. He inched away from her, not wanting to offend her, then leaned down and looked at her closer. Her eyes were red and shiny with unshed tears and her lip was trembling ever so slightly. His gut twisted with the sudden and overwhelming desire to kiss her, or hold her, or do something to ease her pain.

          “Inquisitor, I-”

          “Shh. Please don’t say anything,” she whispered, voice hoarse from crying. “Will you just…hold me?”

          Cullen’s breath caught in his throat and his heart pounded almost painfully in his chest. He would have been lying had he denied imagining her in his bed before, but it had never gone like this. _Sweet Maker, deliver me from temptation._ He coughed and looked away from her. “H-hold you?” he stammered, cheeks reddening more with every second. She nodded, and as he watched a single tear escape out of the corner of her eye, his stomach lurched and his heart squeezed with emotion. How could he possibly turn her away?

          Extremely aware of every inch of his body, Cullen lowered his head back to the pillow and rolled on to his back. He looked to her, waiting for her to move. She wriggled forward and nestled against his shoulder, cheek pressed against his collarbone, arm resting across his abdomen. Slowly, being wary of her injuries, still only a few weeks healed, he brought his arms around her, one hand resting innocently on her shoulder, the other beside her hand on his stomach. He didn’t dare hold her hand, settling for merely touching her littlest finger with his thumb. He prayed she couldn’t feel his heart racing. Her hair smelled like wildflowers and grass. For a few moments, he remained silent, listening only to her breathing and occasional sniffling. Though he was far too nervous to fall back asleep, he would remain there, silent and still all night if she needed him to. He would protect her.

          “I never told you what really happened at Redcliffe,” she whispered after several minutes. Instinctively, he tensed.

          “What happed there was made very clear in your reports-”

          “No, I mean what happened to _you._ ” She took a steadying breath and he felt a slight dampness on his shirt from where he was sure she was crying. “After I disappeared, Corypheus destroyed the Inquisition. Those who survived fled, all except you. Y-you refused to surrender to him.” She stopped, her voice breaking and Cullen could hear her small sob. He squeezed her shoulder softly and she continued. “For months you gathered what few soldiers would follow and launched assaults on Corypheus. It was a massacre every time. Towards the end, you weren’t much of a believer in the Maker anymore. The only thing you still believed in was...” There was a pause and she sat up, turning away from him. She buried her face in her hands, but he could make out her muffled words. “The only thing you still believed in was me. But I never came back. I failed you, and when Corypheus came for you, you had finally stopped fighting. He hung your body like a fucking _trophy_ in Redcliffe. Cullen, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her voice broke again and she sobbed, bringing her knees to her chest. Her fingers wound into her hair. In an instant, his arms were around her. He pulled her to him and she buried her face against his neck. He held her steadfast, pressing his cheek against her hair.

          “Because of you, that future is never going to happen. You stopped it before it ever became reality. Look at me. Look at me, I’m right here, alive.” He gripped her hand and pulled it up, pressing it firmly over his beating heart. She relaxed slightly, sobs quieting to mere whimpers. “Look at me,” he said again. She raised her head and met his gaze. “It wasn’t your fault. You needn’t cry over something that won’t happen, thanks to you.”

          “Will you promise me something?” she whispered. He squeezed her hand.

          “Anything.”

          “Your faith in the Maker is important to you, I know it is. Please, don’t ever lose it because of me. If I fail and everything gets taken from you, don’t let me take that from you too.” Cullen took both of her hands in his.

          “I promise you, whatever happens my faith will not be shaken; my faith in the Maker, yes, but more importantly my faith in you. You can, and you will, stop Corypheus. Never doubt that.”

          For a moment, they were quiet, the only sound in the room was their slow, steady breathing and the occasional whisper of wind through the hole in Cullen’s ceiling. Nell smiled for the first time since she’d arrived and all at once, Cullen became aware of how close they were. How utterly and _inappropriately_ and wonderfully close they were. He cleared his throat anxiously and withdrew his hands. She slid out of the bed and stood, brushing the front of her nightclothes.

          “Thank you, Cullen,” she said.

“What brought this up? Why now, weeks later?” he asked.

“I have nightmares about it all the time,” she mumbled. Cullen knew the look on her face all too well. It was the look of someone who was too tired to sleep. He reached for her again, fingers curling around hers.

“You don’t have to go,” he whispered. “If…ah, if you don’t want to, that is.” She smiled and shook her head.

“If I stay until morning, we have to talk about it, so I won’t,” she murmured. “Get some sleep, Commander.” And before he could register what she was doing, she placed a feather light kiss on his cheek and dropped down the ladder, landing with an unceremonious thud. He held his breath until he heard his office door click shut, then sighed loudly, flopping back on his pillows. For the first time since waking, Cullen’s muscles relaxed. He rubbed his tired eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to forget how soft her lips felt pressed against his cheek.

Oh, he was in trouble. Deep trouble. With a groan Cullen flipped onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillows. The blighted things smelled like wildflowers and grass _._ With a breathless curse he tossed them across the room where they bounced off a wall and fell quietly to the floor.

 _This is ridiculous_ , he thought. His ill-advised and probably unrequited attraction to her, the Inquisitor, his _leader_ , was the absolute last thing he needed, and yet, he couldn’t help the flutter in his heart when she smiled at him, or the aching pain he felt when she cried. Nell… No, he couldn’t say her name. He couldn’t keep imagining her as a woman, rather than a figurehead. If he said her name, then he’d _really_ be in trouble. He couldn’t fall in love with her, not now, not with so much riding on her success, on _their_ success. He heaved a sigh and sank back onto the mattress, feeling suddenly very cold. Still grumbling to himself, he closed his eyes and tried to press the image of her from his mind. It was bound to be a long night.

Later that afternoon, at the War Council meeting, the Inquisitor hardly looked at Cullen. She had dark circles under her eyes from a night of little sleep and she seemed tense. When the meeting ended and Leliana and Josephine walked out, laughing together, Nell remained staring listlessly at the map. She toyed with a marker piece that belonged in the Emerald Graves , rolling it between two fingers. Cullen approached her hesitantly. She didn’t look up at him.

          “Are you alright?” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. She reached up and patted his hand. Finally, she raised her eyes to him and offered a smile. It was small, but genuine.

          “Actually, I am. Our next move is going to deal Corypheus a significant blow. I look forward to it.” She clenched the piece in her fist before setting it back on the map. She turned to face him. “Thank you, Cullen. For everything.” Her lips stretched into a smile that made him weak at the knees, and he felt a jolt of guilt.

It was time to tell her about the lyrium.

 

 

          Nell pushed open the door to Cullen’s office. He was standing, or pacing, rather, behind his desk, wringing his hands nervously. At the creak of the door, he looked up.

          “You sent for me?”

          “Ah, yes. Please come in, Inquisitor.” His voice was stiff and formal and it instantly sent a chill down Nell’s spine. She nudged the door shut with her foot and took her place in front of his desk.

          “As leader of the Inquisition, you… There is something I must tell you.”

          She raised one eyebrow. “Whatever it is, I’m willing to listen.”

“Right, thank you. Lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer. Some go mad, others die. We’ve secured a reliable source of Lyrium for the Templars here, but I… no longer take it.” The last four words tumbled from his lips, heavy and ridden with guilt. The Inquisitor stared, wide eyed.

“You stopped?” she breathed. He nodded.

“When I joined the Inquisition. It’s been months now.”

“Why are you doing this?” she tried to keep the panic from flooding in to her voice, but the tremor was unmistakable. He sighed.

“After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn’t. I will not be bound to the order, or that life any longer. Whatever the suffering, I accept it, but I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I’ve asked Cassandra to watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty.” His head stooped slightly as he leaned on his desk, fingers clenched into fists. Nell reached forward and placed her hand over his.

“Are you in pain?” she asked. The corner of his mouth flicked up in a self deprecating smile.

“I can endure it,” he assured her. She felt another surge of fear as she looked into his tired, red-rimmed eyes, and she took a step backward. With her shoulders pulled back, she adopted her Inquisitor voice.

“Thank you for telling me. I respect what you’re doing.” His back straightened and he rested his hands on the hilt of his sword.

“Thank you, Inquisitor. The Inquisition’s army must always take priority. Should anything happen, I will defer to Cassandra’s judgment.”

Nell opened her mouth to protest, but he had already turned his back to her, busying himself with a book on military strategy. She bit her lower lip and turned to leave, realizing for the first time that Cullen would willingly die for the Inquisition, for her. The thought made her stomach twist. For the second time that week, her sleep was restless.

          For the next few days, Nell and Cullen hardly saw each other. She thought of him constantly, worried about his condition. Everything made sense now. The lack of sleep, the moodiness, the shaking hands – it was all withdrawal. He had been quietly suffering since Haven and she hadn’t even noticed. She thought of how many times they had snapped at each other for no reason and felt guilty. All that time he was struggling and she only made it worse. She, mostly out of frustration and guilt, decided to keep away from him for a while, spending all of her time in her room, which had been newly furnished for her use.

          He avoided her out of shame. He was terrified of what she thought of him now. Would she trust his leadership? Did she think he was a disaster waiting to fall apart? He paced in his office, wondering if he should go to her. They’d grown so much closer lately, especially after her late night visit several days prior. Maker, he’d held her in his arms, and now he couldn’t even look at her. He thought for a fleeting moment they could have something more, but he’d likely ruined that.

          “Commander, you’d better come quick!”

          Cullen flinched and looked up from the report he’d been pretending to read at the breathless recruit standing in his doorway. “What is it, Soldier?”

          “There’s a fight in the tavern between a Mage and a Templar, it may come to blows, Ser.”

          “You can’t break up a simple tavern fight?” Cullen asked, skin prickling with irritation. The recruit wrung his hands nervously.

          “Well, we thought they’d listen to you better,” he explained. With a sigh, Cullen pushed himself up from his desk and out the door.

          He could hear the shouting from outside the tavern door, but it only amplified when he pushed it open. The Mage and Templar in question were standing practically nose to nose, fury evident on both of their faces.

“You’re a disgrace! It’s only a matter of time before you bring doom on us all!” the Templar shouted, shoving the Mage back, causing him to collide with a nearby table. The Mage, fingertips glowing with magic, lunged forward, fist raised.

“Enough!” Cullen yelled, stepping between the two of them. The Mage, not realizing Cullen was obstructing his target, continued his strike. His fist collided with Cullen’s nose with a sharp crack and Cullen recoiled, swearing. Blood was dripping down his face from two places, his broken nose, and a large gash on the bridge, presumably caused by the ring on the Mage’s finger. A charged silence fell over the tavern as people realized what happened. The offending Mage had gone pale white and his face was contorted in horror.

“You hit the Commander!” a whisper came from the crowd behind him.

“He’s dead for sure,” another muttered.

Cullen took a deep breath and wiped some of the blood from his lips, really only succeeding in spreading it farther and stepped forward, grabbing both the Mage and the Templar by the front of their shirts. He pulled them closer.

“You,” he said to the Templar, “and you,” he hissed to the Mage, “should be ashamed of yourselves.” He released them and they skittered backward, terrified. Cullen addressed the rest of the crowd.

“The rest of you, hear me well. Fighting within our ranks will not be tolerated. The Mages are allies of the Inquisition. They are people, and they will be respected. Anyone, and I mean _anyone_ , who does otherwise will be punished severely. Whatever you were before, Templar, Mage, farmer, scholar, you are now part of the Inquisition. Mages are not to be mistreated or feared. For Andraste’s sake, your Inquisitor is a Mage!”

The Templar, with one last burst of misplaced courage, spoke up. “Easy to support a Mage Inquisitor from between her legs, isn’t it, Commander?”

          The speed in which Cullen had the Templar around the throat was incredible. He slammed the man onto the surface of the nearest table, eliciting a shocked gasp from onlookers.

          “What did you just say to me?” he snarled. The Templar’s eyes widened, realizing his severe miscalculation of the Commander’s fury. He held up his hands in a terrified surrender but Cullen pressed in further. “I asked you a question!”

          “Commander, that’s enough.” Cullen looked up, eyes still blazing with anger, his features immediately softening when he saw Nell walking towards him, her face held in controlled neutrality. “I’ll take it from here.” Cullen released his grip on the man and took a step back, allowing Nell room. She motioned for the Templar to stand, which he did, legs wobbling slightly. “Remove your armor,” she said calmly. He gaped at her, confused.

          “M-my Lady?”

          “The armor is property of the Inquisition, which you are no longer a part of. Remove your armor before I have Commander Cullen’s men do it for you.” The Templar bowed his head and tugged at the pieces of his armor with shaking hands. Even Cullen watched her with confusion on his face. Once the solider was down to his breeches and a tunic, Nell crossed her arms. “Gather your personal effects but take nothing else and leave Skyhold. For your sake, I hope the wilderness treats you kindly. Let us also pray there are no Red Templars in the area searching for new victims, shall we?”

          Now, Cullen understood. The Templar’s face went ashen.

          “Inquisitor, I beg you for mercy,” he cried. “I won’t last a week out there without supplies. I’m sorry for what I said and for causing a fight. Please, Maker, have mercy. I’ll never cause trouble again, I swear to Andraste, please!” He fell to his knees in front of Nell, who took a careful step backward. She glanced around the tavern, face still blank. For a long moment, the only sound to be heard was the Templar’s whimpering. Finally, Nell spoke.

          “I will spare you once, and only once,” she said softly. “Let this be a lesson for all of you. There will be no pardoning next time, is that understood?” There was a murmur of agreement. The Templar clambered to his feet.

          “Thank you, Inquisitor, I will never disrespect you again, I swear it,” he sniveled.

          “I don’t really give a damn what you think of me,” she said. “Respect me if you so desire, I only ask you don’t terrorize those who are loyal to me and those who seek refuge and protection in Skyhold. Make that mistake again and there will be no mercy.” The Templar nodded before retreating. A few from the crowed whispered to one another, but many still stood in frozen shock.

          “Back to work, all of you!” Cullen ordered and the crowed scrambled, all hurrying to look busy. Nell looked over at the Commander. His nose was swollen and his face was covered in blood. An angry purple bruise was already forming around his right eye. She could tell from looking at it that it was broken. He stepped forward, jaw tense. “Well handled,” he muttered to her. She pinched his jaw and tilted his face, looking at the damage closer.

          “To my quarters, so I can fix this mess,” she ordered before turning to the door. He followed hastily, feeling nervous to be talking to her again.

          The damage was impressive, all things considered. The bone was badly broken and the gash was deep. It wouldn’t scar badly if treated well, but it bled like hell. Once inside her quarters, she motioned to the bed that had recently been put in her quarters. Cullen awkwardly perched on the end of it, feeling quite vulnerable in her room. She rummaged through her desk, coming back with a small box and a cloth. She held his face and began cleaning it.

          He winced as she dabbed at the blood, some of it already drying in his stubble and down his neck. She avoided his gaze as she worked to clean it, but he watched her the entire time. It was rare he got to be this close to her, especially recently, and he wanted so desperately to reach out and brush his fingers across the freckles on her cheeks. He clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth.

          _Don’t make a fool of yourself, Rutherford._

          Once his face was mostly clean of blood, she pulled a small bottle of a strange clear liquid out. Pouring some on her cloth, she patted the cut. Cullen hissed as it began to sting and bubble. “To keep out infection,” she said mildly. Once it was done, she took a step back and looked at him.

          “How shall I go about this, Commander?” she asked. He knew what she was asking, but he didn’t quite know his answer. Did he feel comfortable having magic used on him? The thought of it made his stomach turn, and had he been asked a year before, his answer would have been a disgusted ‘no’. But as he watched Nell’s face, her eyes soft and non-threatening, he realized his response instantly.

          “Use your magic. I trust you.”

          Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she did not hesitate.

          At first, it tingled and itched, but as Cullen began to feel the skin knitting back together and sealing, it began to burn. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fist. She paused and cupped his chin, holding him steady.

          “Do you want me to stop?” she asked softly.

          “I’m fine,” he grunted. She returned her hand back to his nose.

          The bone was worse. It shifted, ever so slowly, back into place, and he bit his tongue to keep from making a sound. Then, the bone began to reconnect and fuse back together and he reached out instinctively to grab the hand Nell wasn’t using. He squeezed it until she pulled her hand away and told him it was finished. He exhaled slowly.

          “You’d think healing magic would be pleasant,” he said. She shrugged.

          “You get used to it. Your nose and eye will be bruised but it’ll be fine in a few days. The scar from the gash will fade too.”

          He touched the skin on his face experimentally, the magic still humming beneath the surface. It was tender, but whole. She’d even managed to heal his nose straight, which was nothing short of a miracle.

          She gathered her supplies and moved to her desk, her back to Cullen. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maker, that whole thing was humiliating,” he muttered. Nell closed the box with a snap.

          “Which part, Commander? The part where a Mage broke your nose or where a Templar implied you’d spend any of your time between my legs?” she said through clenched teeth. Cullen froze and turned to her. Her shoulders were tense, he could see it from where he sat.

          “Maker, I’d hoped you hadn’t heard that,” he whispered. Nell laughed shrilly before sighing. She leaned on the desk, head drooping.

          “It hardly matters now. You can go, Commander. Your nose is fine,” she said. Cullen walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder.

          “To imply that the only reason I would support your leadership is if I was having sex with you was disgusting. You’re a remarkable leader, Inquisitor. Do not doubt that based on the ranting of a loud mouth,” he said quietly. Nell shrugged out of his grasp and circled around her desk, gathering reports. She did not meet Cullen’s eyes.

          “I said you could go, Commander.”

          Cullen opened his mouth to speak, but instead only sighed. He straightened his back and crossed his arm over his chest, saluting her.

          “Thank you, Inquisitor, for your help,” he said stiffly. She waved her hand dismissively.

          “It was no trouble.”

          He wanted so desperately to pull her into his arms and hold her that he nearly did, but instead, he turned and walked out of her quarters without another word. When he reached his office, he was furious with himself for not doing enough for her. He had chosen rigid professionalism over comforting her and that thought made his heart sink.

          Back in her quarters, Nell busied herself with her work, but the entire time she thought of Cullen. He’d looked so horrified when the Templar accused him of sleeping with her, it was embarrassing. She had no idea she repulsed him so much. Clearly, her attraction to him was one sided, despite the tender moments she thought they had shared. She felt her cheeks burn at the embarrassment of her tearful visit a few nights before. He’d held her, but only because she asked, and then he had opened up to her about his struggles with lyrium and she avoided him for four days. It was no wonder he didn’t want her now. Maker, when he’d taken her hand it took everything in her to not squeeze back. She couldn’t get attached to him, she refused. He was the Commander of her armies, her advisor, and she couldn’t risk being with him.

          _Not that it mattered,_ Nell thought bitterly, _the idea clearly disgusted him anyway._

          After hours of reports, the sun began to sink behind the mountains, leaving Nell’s room entirely dark save for two candles and the fire she’d lit to keep warm. She rubbed her tired eyes and leaned on her elbow, drawing pointless little doodles on the page instead of working. 

          Sometime just before midnight, she heard a knock on her door. She called for the person to enter, barely looking up from her papers.

          “I brought you tea.” Her head snapped up and she accidentally knocked over her inkwell, sending ink splattering all over the crude drawing of the Inquisition’s symbol she’d been working on. Cursing, she began mopping up the ink with the sleeve of her tunic.

          “Maker, Cullen, why didn’t you say it was you?” she snapped. His cheeks were flushed and he shifted awkwardly on his feet.

          “I’m sorry if you don’t wish to see me, Inquisitor, I merely wanted to check if you were alright,” he admitted. Nell rubbed her face and sighed.

          “Forgive me, it’s been a trying day.” Cullen cautiously stepped forward and placed the teacup on the edge of her desk. Nell could smell it was lemon, her favorite, though she knew Cullen couldn’t have known that. She took a small sip before speaking again. “I’m sorry for being so cold to you earlier.”

          “No, I should be apologizing,” Cullen said quickly. “I didn’t think that the Templar’s words would have upset you so much. I-I should have asked, or done something… Forgive me.”

          Truth be told, Cullen was more embarrassed than anything else. He’d tried to keep his recent infatuation with her undetectable, but the Templar had hit him where it was most sensitive, and he saw now what Nell thought. She was clearly offended by the notion, and he couldn’t blame her, he was a broken man, though it hurt desperately to admit that. He’d spent hours trying to think of what he could say to ease her discomfort, but nothing came. Knowing he couldn’t say _nothing,_ he set out for Nell’s quarters, hoping the words would come when he saw her. If anything, it felt as if he’d simply swallowed his tongue as soon as he walked in the room. Nell looked up at him, her expression entirely impossible to read.

          “Yes, well, let’s put it behind us. There isn’t any point in dwelling on such… ridiculous things.” She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck.

          “As you wish.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. Nell sipped her tea again and quietly thanked him for it. “I should go,” he blurted suddenly, turning for the stairs.

          “Cullen, wait!” Nell called after him. He paused, heart hammering in his chest. “You don’t have to go just yet, if you don’t want to. I, uh, wouldn’t mind the company, in all honesty. Only if you want-”

          “I’m afraid I can’t, Inquisitor. I still have a great deal of work to do,” he said quietly, dropping his head. Her cheeks reddened.

          “Oh, right. Forget I asked.” Cullen’s heart squeezed with guilt when the corners of her mouth tipped downwards.

          “Tomorrow night I’ll finish up my reports early. We could take a walk, perhaps?” he suggested. She smiled.

          “If I get cold, will you give me that ridiculous fir thing?” she teased. Cullen chuckled.

          “You mean this stately addition to my impressive set of armor? You can’t have it.” The Inquisitor rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, and Cullen’s heart lifted.

          “Are you doing alright?” she asked suddenly. Cullen frowned.

          “Maker, you’ve been worrying, haven’t you?” he asked.

          “I haven’t stopped since you told me,” she said sheepishly. Cullen stepped towards her.

          “You don’t have to-”

          “Don’t tell me not to worry, don’t tell me you’re fine when you’re not, just be honest with me.”

          He sighed. “A headache today, nothing worse.”

          “You swear?”

          “I swear, Inquisitor,” he said, chuckling.

          “Until tomorrow, then, Commander,” she said. He bowed his head.

          “Until tomorrow.”

         

 


	9. Where in the World is the Hero of Ferelden? and Other Mysteries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short update from Warden Alistair Theirin and where his wife has disappeared to, as well as some much needed information about the Inquisition's threat. Cullen neglects his friends, and Tirnella mopes about Crestwood for a few days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Very brief mention of sexual assault (use of the word r**e). Some description of violence.

            Nell sighed and rubbed her temples, hoping to rid herself of the headache she’d been plagued with all day. It had been a ridiculous morning, starting first when she found Cassandra and Varric literally at each other’s throats. Once she’d separated the two of them, Hawke explained he had a friend that could help her, a Grey Warden named Alistair, who would be waiting for her in a lakeside town called Crestwood. She informed Leliana and Josephine of her immediate departure. Since then, she’d been preparing for her journey in her quarters, pausing only to ask Dorian, Sera, and Iron Bull to prepare to accompany her.

          Sometime in the late afternoon, she made her way to Cullen’s office. She found him where she expected him, stuck behind his desk under a mountain of paperwork. His quill scratched away in the silent room. His face was screwed up in hard lines of concentration and his shoulders were tensed. Nell cleared her throat.

          “Cullen?”

          He jumped, the quill slipping from his hands. “Inquisitor, forgive me, I didn’t realize you’d entered.”

          Nell chuckled. “I never knew paperwork could be so fascinating.” Cullen sighed and leaned back in his chair.

          “It isn’t, but it helps to keep busy. Is there anything I can do for you?”

          Nell felt her cheeks grow hotter. Clearly, Cullen had forgotten their plans together, or had changed his mind. She fidgeted with the sleeve of her tunic. “Um, our walk? If you still wanted to, I mean.” His eyes widened and darted to the reports piled on his desk, then back to her.

          “Maker’s breath, I completely forgot. Forgive me, I can… I’ll just-”

          “Cullen, relax. You are obviously busy, I’ll let you finish your work,” Nell said. Though her tone was cheery, she felt the tendrils of disappointment tugging at her. Cullen frowned and looked to his paperwork again, and, to his credit, considered it for a very long time.

          “It’s just… These reports must be done tonight,” he said grimly. Nell nodded firmly.

          “I understand. Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow, before I leave. Goodnight, Commander.”

          He stood up, his chair scraping noisily across the stone. “You’re leaving?” he asked.

          “Hawke gave me information that’s taking me to Crestwood. I’ll be gone a few weeks, nothing too serious.”

          “A few weeks?” he repeated. Again, she nodded.

          “Goodbye then,” she said as she opened the door. Cullen stood frozen, watching her with an almost pained expression. She returned his gaze for a moment, but when his eyes flickered downward to his papers again, she shut the door behind her and hurried down the stairs.  

          In his office, Cullen sank back into his chair, staring angrily at the reports on his desk. He wanted so desperately to run to her quarters and tell her he’d made a mistake, but he never did, choosing instead to put everything into his work, finishing only a few hours before dawn. He sank into bed with a sigh and lay on his back for a long while, staring up at the sky. It was a cloudy night. Soon, it started to rain and Cullen pulled his blankets over his head, thanking the Maker his bed was under the only solid section of roof. As he drifted off, he pictured Nell’s eyes, so startlingly blue, and so filled with disappointment that afternoon as she closed the door. His sleep was troubled that night.

          As promised, Nell and her party left Skyhold early that morning. Cullen, eager to make amends for his blunder the day before, rushed to the courtyard, hoping to catch her before she was gone. He saw her as she was mounting her horse and called to her. It was still raining and Cullen could hear the metallic twang of the raindrops hitting his breastplate. If she heard him, she gave no indication. With a nudge of her boots, she urged her horse onwards past the gate of Skyhold, followed by her companions. Cullen’s heart sank. He returned to his office to sulk for the rest of the morning before he went to run drills with his soldiers, which were unusually difficult, due to the Commander’s foul mood.

          For Nell, the journey went smoothly. Her companions chattered merrily, none bothering to comment on Nell’s irritated disposition. As they drew nearer to their destination, the rain grew harder, and then never stopped. It rained incessantly, soaking Nell’s clothes straight through. She shivered as their horses made their way down the path.

          The group came across a damp cave with Hawke standing guard outside. They entered apprehensively.

          Alistair made a great deal of jokes and witty remarks, looking outwardly to be a very silly man. But when everyone else had diverted their attention, Nell saw his smile fade to a frown he wore so naturally it was difficult to believe he’d ever looked otherwise. He clenched his jaw and raised his hand to pluck a small chain out from under his armor, a ring dangling from the end. He thumbed the gold band with empty eyes. Those eyes flickered to hers and he chuckled.

          “Wedding rings are not best worn on a warrior’s hands,” he said softly. The others were bent over a map nearby, ignoring the two of them. Nell stepped closer, her arms folded in front of her chest.

          “You’re married to the Hero of Ferelden, aren’t you?”

          “Ha, I hope so,” he remarked. Nell raised her eyebrows quizzically and he continued. “My wife has been away a while. She’s after a cure for the taint – the thing that makes us Wardens. If she succeeds, we may have a chance at a real life together. If she doesn’t we’ve got ten years left at best. It’s been almost two years now, and…” he paused and dropped his eyes to the dirt at his feet. Nell heard a distinct break in his voice when he began again. “We’ve lost contact. If the Maker is as good as everyone says, he’ll send her home to me.”

          He was quiet after that, as was Nell, but she watched him carefully for the rest of the meeting. He was so young still, but much like Cullen in the sense that his life had made lines around his eyes like cracks in leather. Sometimes, there was a glimmer of a much younger boy in his face, but it often dimmed within moments. Nell imagined what he must have been like as a young man, full of enthusiasm and sarcasm. They stayed the night in the cave with him, glad for shelter from the rain. After much of the group had fallen asleep, Nell joined Alistair beside the map table.

          “How did you become a Warden?” she asked casually. He peered up at her, a slight smile spreading across his face.

          “That, my friend, is a long story full of scandalous sex and terrible parenting. I’ll make it brief. I was sent to the Chantry to be a Templar to keep me out of the way of a Nobleman’s family. I was a miserable student – I always stole food from the kitchens the minute the Chantry sister’s turned their backs. A month before I was set to take my vows, the Grey Wardens approached me and recruited me. I had never been more committed to anything than I was to leaving the Chantry. Good thing too, or I would’ve been in Ferelden’s circle when it fell. Nasty business.”

          “Ferelden?” Nell blurted. “Did you know another Templar named Cullen? Cullen Rutherford?”

          Alistair snorted. “If I recall, he was the uptight boy whose bed sheets I once dumped in the lake. Poor bastard ended up being the only one of the Templars left. I suppose his dedication didn’t serve him much in the end.” Alistair cleared his throat awkwardly.  “Hawke told me Cullen is your Commander now. He was a good man, I do remember that. Pretended he didn’t know it was me who stole his sheets so I wouldn’t get in trouble for the hundredth time that day.”

          Nell spent the night picturing Cullen, eighteen years old with bright eyes and a light heart, eager to train and learn. She pictured Alistair with an unbroken heart, stealing Cullen’s things to frustrate him. The image made her feel unsettled and a bit sick when she compared it to who they were now, older and scarred, bitter and tired. She squeezed her eyes shut until sleep came.

          At dawn, Alistair saw the group off, taking a moment to stop Nell as she was leaving. He had a grin on his face as he whispered, “tell Cullen that Alistair Theirin sends his regards.” Nell laughed and promised she would.

          “For what it’s worth, I pray the Maker sends your wife home soon,” she said before she was gone. Alistair smiled sadly and nodded.

 

 

_Advisors-_

_Crestwood, aside from the rift spitting out undead underneath a lake, was better than expected, though two and a half weeks here was less than ideal. We drained the lake and closed the rift, but the mayor of the town disappeared soon afterwards. He left behind a letter of confession claiming he was the one who flooded the old town and killed everyone living there. I suggest we find him. Quickly._

_We met with Hawke’s friend Alistair, who provided us with a great deal of useful information. I’ll brief you when I return. We’ll set out tomorrow morning and head straight for Skyhold. Provided the journey goes to plan, I’ll be back within the week._

_Nell_

No reply came to her letter, but as predicted, Nell returned to Skyhold after less than a week. Her companions trudged past the gates into the lower courtyard, gear and clothes still mildly damp. The horn sounded to alert the people of their arrival and within a minute, her advisors had arrived to question her on her travels.

          Nell grudgingly followed them to the War Room, her arms crossed defiantly in front of her chest. Once inside, the four of them discussed the plan for the Inquisition’s next move. Nell would have to journey to the Western Approach as soon as she was able to, a fact that made Cullen frown. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she arrived, though she had made a point of treating him with mild professionalism.

          “Give me a few days, then Hawke and I will send word to Alistair to meet us there,” Nell said, leaning against the War Table. She rubbed her eyes. “For now, however, I would like the opportunity to sleep. Good afternoon.”

         

 

          She shut herself in her room for the better part of a day, catching up on reports and sleep, delighting in the solitude after so many days in close proximity to the chaos of her friends. She bathed, humming softly to herself as she washed days of dirt and sweat from her hair. From the end of her bed, her cat watched her with his one good eye. His tail swished back and forth and Nell chuckled at the noticeable weight he’d gained.

          “Does Cole spoil you while I’m away?” she asked. The cat mewled in response and rolled onto its back.

          As she expected, it wasn’t long before a knock interrupted her peace and made her curse quietly. “Just a minute!” she called, scrambling for a towel. She dried her hair as best she could and pulled her silk robe over her still damp skin. When she felt covered enough, she called to the person to enter, still shaking the remaining water from her hair. Cullen, his face gone pale, stopped at the top of the stairs.

          “I – forgive me, I shouldn’t… I should go,” he sputtered. Nell laughed.

          “If my nudity embarrasses you, Commander, then you shouldn’t have interrupted my bath,” she said. Cullen swallowed, his eyes remaining fixed on hers. She laughed again.

          “What are you laughing at?” he asked, crossing his arms.

          “You’re staring at me, Cullen.”

          He dropped his gaze to his feet. “It just occurred to me that this is the first time I’ve ever seen you with your hair down, that’s all,” he said quietly. Nell smiled self consciously and tugged on the end of a lock of hair.

          “Does it look strange?” she asked. His head snapped up.

          “Not at all! It’s… It’s, um-”

          “Yes?”

          “Beautiful. You’re… beautiful.”

          Silence. Nell stared at him, a flush of red creeping from her ears to her nose. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck.

Tirnella had been called beautiful before. Her father told her she was beautiful when her powers manifested and she was being taken to the circle. He followed it immediately with, “it’s a shame we can’t have her married now.” Once, a young Templar nervously told her she was lovely while standing guard over her in the library. That same Templar tried to rape her in that same library two weeks later and she stabbed him with his own weapon. When she was seventeen, her sister wrote her a letter and told her she was the prettier of them both, but that didn’t mean a thing on a Mage.

          This time was different. Cullen stood before her, hands fidgeting nervously as he waited for her to answer. It was an honest confession, accidental perhaps, and he hadn’t said it to be cruel, or to manipulate her, or to hurt her. He had said it because it was what he felt. Nell felt a sting in the corners of her eyes and she hastily ducked her head.

          “Did I upset you?” His voice was soft, afraid, and impossibly small for such a tall, muscled man. Nell looked up, misty eyed.

          “You didn’t upset me at all,” she whispered.

          “You’re crying.”

          “Shut up, I am not crying.”

          “If I’ve hurt you-”

          “For once in your life, stop apologizing. You’ve done nothing wrong,” she said, more harsh than she’d meant.

          “Before you left-”

          “I should have told you it upset me. I was being-”

          “Dramatic?” he offered. Nell chuckled.

          “Maker, and here I thought we didn’t understand each other. Give me a moment to put on clothes, then we can talk if you’d like.”

          “You don’t need to do that,” he said hastily. Nell raised an eyebrow at him.

          “I don’t need to get dressed?” she asked. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open.

          “Maker, no, that isn’t what I meant!” he cried. Nell laughed and motioned for him to turn his back, which he did. She tugged her clothes on quickly, blushing a little at the idea of only being covered by Cullen’s respect and honesty.

          “Alright, Commander, you can turn back around,” she said, flopping onto her couch, gesturing to the other end. He sat nervously, not saying anything for a bit. Suddenly, he turned to face her.

          “How are you? Crestwood must have been… difficult.”

          Nell plucked a loose thread from her tunic. “I’ve no idea how to handle the Mayor. On one hand, he was trying to protect those who had a chance at survival. On the other, he murdered so many innocents. Logically, I see why he did it. Morally, I’m not sure I could let him go.”

          “Will you have him executed?” Cullen asked softly.

          “Maker, Cullen, I don’t know. I’m a circle Mage with no political experience of any kind, how can I be expected to make that choice?” Nell said. Cullen frowned.

          “You’re struggling with it because you’re kind, not inept. Execution isn’t a light sentence, and it isn’t one you should make without consideration. You are a circle Mage, but that is not the one defining characteristic of who you are. For what it’s worth, I trust you to make the right choice.”

          “You are very complimentary tonight. What are you trying to achieve?” she asked, nudging his knee with her foot. Cullen leaned back, smirking.

          “I have no motivation beyond honesty, Inquisitor,” he admitted. Nell’s heart sank a little. _Inquisitor._ “How long are you staying in Skyhold?” he asked. Nell shrugged.

          “Technically, I have weeks, but I want to leave sooner. I hate waiting around while there is so much to do. I need to see what is waiting for me in the Western Approach.”

          “Sand, mostly.”

          “Yes, I gathered that, smartass.”

          More quiet. Cullen watched her curiously, his eyes seemingly fixed on her face. She stared back with narrowed eyes and a crooked smirk. Suddenly, Cullen stood.

          “I should go,” he said quickly. “Goodnight, Inquisitor.” He was almost to the top of the stairs when he glanced back at her. “I’m glad you’ve returned. You are always missed when you’re away.”

          Nell nodded, quite taken aback, but he was already gone, leaving behind only the faint smell of leather and the soft clink of armor going down the steps.

 

          When the sun had fully set and Skyhold had gone quiet for the night, Nell was restless. She donned her coat and boots and set to wandering the fortress, arms crossed tightly to ward off the cold, but barely succeeding. Shivering, she walked. Once or twice she passed a guard walking along the battlements who would stop and ask if she was alright. She would smile halfheartedly and send them on their way. Eventually, she found herself sitting on the wall of the fortress, feet dangling what felt like miles above the snowy mountain. The full moon reflected silver off of the ice below, making the whole mountain glow. She gripped the stone with numb fingers, feeling the slightest bit dizzy as she stared down at empty air below her. The wind whipped in her jacket, causing her skin to feel uncomfortably tight and tingly. She shivered.

          “Inquisitor, might I be able to convince you to get down?” a soft voice said from behind her. She jumped, gripping the stone tighter. Solas stood, hands clasped behind his back, watching her curiously.

          “Maker, Solas, do you want me to fall?”

          “I would rather you didn’t,” he replied mildly. “Is everything alright?”

          “I just couldn’t sleep. I like looking at the mountains,” she said. Solas leaned on his elbows against the stone beside her.

          “Is something troubling you?”

          “Usually,” she remarked. Solas glanced sideways at her and she shrugged. “I feel restless when I come to Skyhold. There isn’t much for me here except waiting for Corypeus to make a move, and that terrifies me. At least when I’m on missions I am doing _something_.”

          “May I suggest you spend your time here getting to know your people? You command armies now. People all over Thedas are willing to fight and die for you, Tirnella. Learn their names. Talk to your companions. You spend a great deal of time with us traveling, but have you once visited Sera since we arrived here? Or Blackwall? You have the compassion and the cleverness to be a wonderful leader, my friend. Stop wasting your time worrying instead of being that leader.”

          Nell smiled. “As always, you’re right. Now help me off of this damn wall, it’s fucking freezing.”

          Solas chuckled softly as he wrapped surprisingly strong hands around her upper arms and pulled her back on to the battlements. She stumbled against him a little, shivering violently. He steadied her and they walked together along the stone walls heading vaguely in the direction of her quarters. They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Solas spoke.

          “Does your mark continue to trouble you?”

          Nell glanced down at her hand and looked at the mark, calm now, but glowing faintly. She shook her head. “Rarely. Only when I’m near rifts… It’s as if it can sense them. It scares me sometimes.”

          Solas made a small hum in the back of his throat to indicate he’d heard her, but said nothing in reply. His eyebrows were knitted together and his mouth was pressed into a hard line. Nell almost asked him why he looked so offended, but a voice from ahead interrupted her.

          “Inquisitor? Is everything alright?”

          Nell’s heart skipped and she paused, glancing up at Cullen standing before her, reports in hand. In the corner of her eye she saw Solas bow his head slightly to Cullen before continuing forward, leaving the two of them alone. Nell hugged herself, shivering again.

          “It seems no matter where I walk, Commander, you happen to walk the same way. You’re not following me, are you?” she quipped. Cullen blushed and shook his head.

          “I’m afraid not, we’re simply lucky, I suppose,” he replied. Nell glanced up at the moon and sighed. Cullen took an uncertain step forward. “You’re cold.” Nell shrugged but he was already removing his fur mantle, coming to her to drape it over her shoulders. Nell gripped the edges and smirked at him.

          “I do believe, Commander, that you vowed this would never be mine, despite the temperature. Why the change of mind?” she teased.

          He rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to see if it looked as ridiculous on you as I pictured,” he said. Nell barked out a laugh at his surprising snide attitude. She twirled dramatically.

          “Well? Am I everything you dreamed of?” she asked. Cullen laughed.

          “I’m afraid it looks quite becoming on you, I’m disappointed.”

          She hooked her arm in his and tugged him onward over the battlements. Cullen made no move to resist or argue. They hardly talked, but he walked her the entire way to her quarters, a small smile curving his lips as he bowed to her at her door. He took his leave with sure steps and a straight back, but his hands rested at his sides, relaxed.


	10. The Meaning of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to face the Wardens, and that means blood. Cullen and Tirnella play a game, and it has some dangerous implications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Major character death. Depictions of violence. Anxiety/trauma. Battle/combat depicted.

_Advisors-_

_Of all of the locations in Thedas, the Wardens decided to meet in the Western fucking Approach, which is just inconsiderate, in my opinion. We met with Alistair and Hawke here and witnessed the Wardens under control of a Venatori Magister named Livius Erimond. He’s convinced the Wardens to participate in blood magic rituals that bind them to demons. Lovely. The Wardens that survived fled in the direction of Adamant Fortress, according to Alistair. It appears we’ve got more problems than solutions at the moment, but I’ve seen enough for now. We stabilized the Western Approach as best we can, but I’m not interested in staying any longer. Our party should arrive in Skyhold within two weeks, then we’ll discuss our siege on Adamant._

_Nell_

          A few days later, Nell and her party arrived in an Inquisition camp just outside of the Western Approach. A scout approached Nell and handed her a letter.

_Inquisitor-_

_Please be safe._

_Cullen_

 

          A little over a week later, Nell and her party arrived in Skyhold, grateful for the piercing mountain air to cool their overheated skin. Nell hadn’t spent so much time in the sun in a long while and her freckles now stood out starkly against her normally pale skin. She was still sticky with dried sweat and dust and sand had made it into every crevice, but she was home.

          As usual, a pile of paperwork and reports were waiting on her desk for her approval. Once she’d bathed and unpacked from her journey, she sat behind her desk to work. As the Inquisition grew, paperwork became more frequent. Josephine sent her countless letters for approval, requisitions that needed filling, building proposals and contracts, all of which Nell needed to oversee. At least three different noblemen had asked for her hand in marriage, which Nell set aside to laugh about with Dorian later. It took several hours, but by early afternoon she had finished.

          She made her way to the library to find Dorian, but instead found his corner empty, with no sign he’d been there for hours. She continued to wander, eventually making her way to the gardens. Sitting across from the door the great hall on either side of a chess board was Dorian and Cullen, both leaning forward in concentration. Nell watched for a moment as Dorian smugly took one of Cullen’s pieces. Cullen shook his head and leaned back, chest puffed out.

          “Gloat all you like, I have this one,” he said snidely.

          “Are you _sassing_ me, Commander? I didn’t know you had it in you,” Dorian replied.

          Nell chuckled. Their attitude was so confident, so overly _male_ that she couldn’t help but laugh.

          “Why do I even…” Cullen trailed off as he noticed Nell, standing only a few feet away. His cheeks went red and he went to stand. “Inquisitor!”

          “Leaving are you?” Dorian interrupted. “Does this mean I win?” With a glare, Cullen sank back in his chair. Dorian laughed and winked at Nell, who bit back a smile.

          “Are you two playing nice?” Nell asked.

          “I am always nice,” Dorian muttered. Cullen snorted and crossed his arms. “You need to come to terms with my inevitable victory. You’ll feel much better.” Cullen tipped back his head and laughed.

          “Really? Because I just won-” he moved a piece and tipped over Dorian’s King “-and I feel just fine.” His grin was lopsided and dripping with pride. Dorian scowled.

          “Don’t get smug. There will be no living with you,” he snapped, pushing himself out of his chair. Cullen chuckled and looked to Nell.

          “I should return to my duties as well. Unless… you would care for a game?”

          Nell winked. “Prepare the board, Commander.”

          “As a child, I played this with my sister. She would get this stuck-up grin whenever she won, which was _all_ the time. My brother and I practiced for weeks. The look on her face the day I finally won… Between serving the Templars and the Inquisition, I haven’t seen them in years. I wonder if she still plays.” His tone turned sad and he leaned back in his chair. Nell moved one of her pieces.

          “You have siblings?” she asked.

          “Two sisters and a brother.”

          “Where are they now?”

          “They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write to them as often as I should. Ah, it’s my turn.”

          “You should keep in practice for when you see your sister again,” Nell said softly. Cullen looked up at her in surprise, as if the thought of being with his family again hadn’t occurred to him. He blinked slowly at her for a moment before nodding.

          “I suppose you’re correct,” he replied.

          They talked while they played for a few more minutes, Nell praying Cullen wouldn’t notice as she deftly moved pieces to sway the game in her favor. After a little while, Cullen chuckled.

          “You know, this may be the longest we’ve gone without discussing the Inquisition – or related matters,” he said. “To be honest, I appreciate the distraction.”

          “We should spend more time together,” Nell said quickly. When she realized what she’d implied, she dropped her gaze to the board, flushing deeply. Cullen leaned forward, his expression soft and his eyes eager.

          “I would like that,” he breathed. Nell’s eyes widened slightly and she lifted her head, leaning forward as well. They sat for a moment, leaning over the chess board, only mere inches from each other.

          “Me too,” she replied dumbly. Cullen chuckled.

          “You said that,” he said. They looked at each other for another moment before he cleared his throat and leaned back. “We should finish our game. Right. My turn?”

          Nell nodded and leaned back, glad for a break in the tension. Her heart was thrumming nervously in her chest and she felt strangely lightheaded. A few minutes later, Cullen took her King.

          “It seems this one is mine,” he said. Nell stared at the board, perplexed. She’d been cheating subtly the entire time, it was impossible for him to win.

          “Wait, what?” she blurted. Cullen laughed.

          “Dorian cheats at this too.”

          Nell groaned, flopping back in her chair. “Damn it, I really thought I’d fooled you.”

          “I’m afraid not, though your effort did not go unappreciated.”

          There was a moment of silence as Nell merely watched birds overhead, her brow knitted in concentration.

          “Our siege on Adamant,” she said, lifting her head to look at Cullen, “it has to be soon.”

          “But you only just returned this morning, surely it can wait a few days,” Cullen said, his voice verging on whining.

          “Will you miss me?” Nell teased.

          Without hesitating, Cullen replied, “yes.” Nell’s mouth hung open slightly and Cullen rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “I should go,” he said after a few moments. Nell nodded.

          “I should too, we have to prepare for the War Meeting this afternoon.”

          They separated, both scurrying off to opposite ends of Skyhold, feeling suddenly so distracted. Cullen sank into his office chair with a groan rubbing his face with his hands. He felt helplessly crippled by Nell’s smile, the soft curve of her lips, and the way her cheeks turned pink when he smiled at her. _Maker forgive me, I’m falling in love with the Herald of Andraste._

Across Skyhold, Tirnella sat in front of her fireplace, knees to her chest, wishing she could have knocked the chess board to the ground and kissed him when she’d had the chance. _Why does he make me feel so steady?_

          True to her word, Nell was hardly in Skyhold before she was leaving again. Cullen worked harder than ever to prepare his troops for the siege on Adamant. This wasn’t a typical mission, and it would be the first time he was accompanying her when she left Skyhold. He would be in the thick of the fight again, leading troops, protecting the Inquisitor. He was slightly nervous as he mounted his horse alongside Tirnella and her companions, riding off towards Adamant.

          The journey was long, with anxiety and worry as a constant companion for everyone. This would be the largest battle since they lost Haven, and they could not afford another loss that devastating. The Inquisition needed this success, and Cullen would see it through no matter what.

          The battle was hard fought. Cullen hardly stopped to breathe, pushing his way through hordes of possessed Wardens, bellowing orders to his soldiers. It was time to send Tirnella through the gates to take the fortress. His soldiers broke open the gates and a cheer erupted from the Inquisition. The Commander uttered a quiet prayer as he watched Nell disappear through the rubble and into the fire.

          For a while, things were quiet. Cullen was handed a waterskin but he didn’t see from whom, he drank very little, too distracted to care. He was seeing everything in flashes. He sent his soldiers in after her, ordering them to take the battlements.

          A bloom of hope spread in his chest and he couldn’t help but smile as he saw Nell again.

          That hope died when the dragon came swooping over the fortress.

          Soldiers barked updates to him. _Erimond is dead. Warden Commander Clarel is dead. The dragon is heading for the Inquisitor._

The Inquisition members froze as there was a crack in the stone resonating across the fortress. Cullen’s blood went cold and still as he watched Nell and her companions begin to fall. The walkway was collapsing, there was nowhere to go. _There was no way she would survive that fall._ His throat constricted and Cullen took a useless step forward, his eyes widened in abject horror.

          There was a flash of green and she was gone.

 

 

          Nell didn’t land, she just stopped falling. Everywhere she looked glowed emerald green. The area around her was blurred, as if she was seeing everything from the corners of her eyes. She groaned loudly and searched for her friends.

          Hawke and Alistair were nearby, as were Cole, Cassandra, and Solas. Cole was thrashing about, shouting in terror. Solas was speaking to him in a low voice, calming him. Nell rubbed her eyes.

          “What the hell happened?” Hawke exclaimed.

          “I – I think I opened a rift,” Nell said. Solas nodded.

          “We are in the Fade, it seems,” he said softly.

          “So, we’re dead?” Alistair said, his voice unnaturally high. Solas shook his head.

          “No. I believe we are physically here. That would explain its bizarre appearance.”

          “What do we do?” Cassandra asked.

          “We have to get out of here!” Cole cried. Cassandra frowned at him.

          “For once, I do agree with him.”

          Five sets of eyes turned to Nell. She swallowed her terror and headed forward, her companions following obediently.

          _Fear. That was all she could feel. Her heart was thundering in her chest and the voices echoed around the Fade, from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The fear demon taunted her. It taunted her friends. She gritted her teeth and pressed forward._

Back in the fortress, Cullen waited. He wrung his hands nervously. It had been almost an hour now since she’d disappeared, and hope was fleeting. There was no way she’d survived the fall. She’d disappeared in a flash of green light and no one had any way of knowing where she’d gone. He took a shaky breath and returned his attention to his work. He couldn’t fail her, even if she was dead.

 

 

          Alistair and Hawke looked at her, faces set in stone.

          “Inquisitor, you need to choose,” Alistair said firmly. Hawke nodded.

          Nell felt her stomach twist and she fought the urge to be sick. _Who will live, who will die?_

          “Nell, we don’t have much time, we need to move!” Cassandra shouted.

          Nell closed her eyes and breathed in. The Fade smelled of death.

          “Hawke. I’m so sorry, but I need the Wardens, and the Wardens need a leader. Forgive me,” she choked. Hawke smiled grimly.

          “It’s forgiven, Inquisitor. Say goodbye to Varric for me.”

          Hawke drew his weapon and bounded toward the fear demon with crazed enthusiasm. Alistair put his hand on her shoulder and guided her forward.

          “If we’re going to make it out of here, we have to go now,” he said. Nell nodded numbly and ran as fast as she could, not looking back to watch Hawke die.

 

          There was a brilliant flash of green and Cullen nearly wept when he saw Tirnella, battered but alive, step through the rift and back into his world. She, with a clenched jaw and a wave of her hand, sealed shut the rift and silenced the crowd. Everyone watched in rapture as she shouted her commands. Cullen could hardly hear what she was saying, he could only watch her, strong and safe. The crowd dispersed and Tirnella took a steady breath. She stumbled down the steps to a safe distance away and Cullen followed. She clasped her hands at the nape of her neck, breathing heavily.

          “Inquisitor,” he called, jogging up beside her. She turned to him, her eyes misty, and she dashed forward, crashing into his chest, throwing her arms around his neck. Cullen gasped. He cautiously put his arms around her, holding her awkwardly against his bloodstained armor. After a few moments, she pulled away, breathing slower now.

          “I’m sorry, I’m just relieved to see you again. For a while I didn’t think that’d be possible,” she said, brushing loose hairs from her face. Her braid had come almost completely undone during the battles. Cullen reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

          “You’re safe and the battle was a success. We couldn’t have asked for more.”

          “Hawke is dead, Cullen. We needed someone to stay behind, and… I chose Hawke. Oh, Maker, how am I going to tell Varric?” Her voice broke and she dropped her eyes to the stone below them. Cullen sighed.

          “You did what had to be done, Inquisitor. Varric will forgive you.”

          He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the others, supporting her as she walked. Within a few hours, the Inquisition armies were set to return to Skyhold, led by Tirnella who remained steady and strong around her people. Cullen watched with pride as she smiled at soldiers and joked with the injured. There was no evidence she was struggling.


	11. This Can Only End in Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tirnella and Cullen channel some of their frustration into training, with some face reddening consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Anxiety/Trauma. Depiction of drinking.

           It had been three days since the Inquisition’s return to Skyhold. Tirnella, after several minutes of pleading from her advisors, agreed to stay in Skyhold for at least a few days to rest. She spent most of her days in her quarters and Cullen hadn’t seen her once outside of the meeting where she’d briefed them on everything she’d endured in the Fade. He’d seen her once that morning walking down the steps from the Great Hall, but she did not hear him call to her. As the evening grew later, Cullen grew more and more exhausted. Still, he refused to let sleep claim him. His dreams the last few nights had been particularly horrific, most involving the image of Nell cascading through rubble and directly into the fade. He woke sweating and screaming consistently each night, and had since decided to go without sleep as much as he could bear. He had slept an hour the night before, and two the night before that. He could feel his tiredness clawing at his insides and it was maddening. Around midnight, his hands began to shake too much to continue writing his reports. With a heavy sigh, he retrieved his hidden bottle of whiskey from within his desk, hoping it would take the edge off enough to read.

          Once he had propped his feet up on his desk, a book on military strategy open in his lap, and a glass of whiskey in his hand, he felt more at ease. He felt pleasantly lightheaded. Just as he finished his glass, his door inched open and his heart fluttered nervously as Nell’s messy red hair appeared, followed by her tear soaked face. He jumped up, setting his glass down with a loud bang. She stood before him, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her hands clutching the edges. In that moment, Cullen remembered how young she was, and already with the weight of the world rested firmly on her shoulders. She looked up at him with big eyes and she looked helpless. Instantly, he was beside her, strong arms pulling her against him. He was suddenly very glad he’d removed his armor earlier that night. She cried quietly for a minute, clutching the front of his tunic in her small hands. He could see the faint glow of her mark through the fabric.

          “What’s wrong?” he whispered. She pulled away, hastily wiping her eyes on her sleeve before pushing past him to pace in front of his desk. He remained by the door, watching her carefully.

          “It’s everything! It’s this mark, it’s Corypheus, it’s Adamant, it’s the look on Varric’s face when I had to tell him I killed Hawke!” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Maker, do you know how fucking hard it was to make that decision? I was just as scared as everyone else, and yet I had Alistair and Hawke looking at me, asking me to choose which one of them gets to live. Varric lied to us about Hawke because he wanted to protect him, and I gave him a death sentence! If this is what Andraste wanted for me then I don’t want to be her fucking chosen one anymore. I’m so scared, Cullen. Everyone in Thedas is relying on me to make life or death decisions and _I_ have to deal with the repercussions. And no one even cares that they’re asking me to do this! Everyone sees me as the Herald of Andraste or the Inquisitor. But not one person has stopped to notice I’m just one woman. I’m twenty four years old and I have all of Thedas asking me to save them. I-I want to help, but I’m just…lost.” She paused, looking to Cullen helplessly, fresh tears in her eyes. Then, she laughed bitterly, leaning on his desk. Her grip on the edge was tight. “But I guess that’s just my life now. I am the Inquisitor, and that’s all I am.” Cullen took a step forward.

          “That isn’t all you are-”

          “Oh, spare me, Cullen. Do you realize I’ve never once heard you say my name? After all this time, you’ve always called me by my title. Never Tirnella, or Nell, or even Lady fucking Trevelyan. Even to you, Commander, I’m just the Herald.” Her biting vitriol stung and he swallowed hard, mind scrambling for something to say. She turned away from him, rubbing her forehead in frustration. Cullen crept up behind her, not wanting to upset her further, but wanting desperately to do something. “Forgive me,” she sighed after a moment. “That isn’t fair, you’ve been good to me, I won’t deny that.”

          Cullen chewed his lip, a battle of emotions playing out in his head. Truthfully, she was correct, and it was a conscious choice. He’d refrained from using her name because she terrified him. Because she was sweet and brave and clever and he could not, under any circumstances, fall for her, but he was doing it anyway. He was fighting it desperately, wanting to erase his feelings for her like they never existed and maintain a professional relationship, but as she turned back to him, blue eyes swimming with angry tears, her lip quivering, his determination dissolved easily. He reached for her, cupping her face in his hands and pulling her closer, pressing his lips to her forehead.

          “Tirnella Trevelyan,” he whispered against her skin. “You are so much more than your title or the responsibility Thedas has decided to put on your shoulders. Forgive me for not telling you this earlier, Nell. Forgive me.”

          He let a minute pass, allowing what he’d said to sink in before he pulled away and dropped his hands, cheeks flushing furiously. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in surprise. A single tear slid from the corner of her eye and Cullen caught it with his thumb, brushing it away. For a long while, it was quiet. Nell simply stared at him, her features hardened into sharp lines of concentration as she worked out her thoughts. Cullen knew her well enough to stay quiet while she processed. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very embarrassed. His affection had gotten the better of him and he was certain he’d only frightened her. Then, she stepped forward slowly, almost in defeat, her blanket slipping off her shoulders as she settled against his chest again. She was clutching the front of his shirt and he had his arms around her waist, holding her steady. It was soft and tender, nothing like the desperate, emotional embrace they’d shared at Adamant.

          He knew she would leave in a few minutes, hoping to keep what little propriety and professionalism they had intact. She’d kiss him on the cheek and dart off into the night, leaving no trace behind. He wanted to savor the time they had. In the morning, she would be the Inquisitor again, bright eyed and snarky, friendly but a safe distance away. In the morning, her visit will have never happened. But for that moment she was his to comfort and he was going to do everything he could for her until the inevitable departure.

          She stayed for the better part of an hour, talking with him. She asked him about his sisters. He poured her a glass of whiskey. He made a joke about her messy hair and she kicked at his shins. Time ticked on unnoticed and Cullen hardly felt the tremble in his hands anymore. Nell’s eyes had dried, replaced by her normal brightness. She laughed so frequently around him and it made his knees weak.

          “I’m leaving for the Exalted Plains tomorrow,” she said softly. She was standing by the door again, one hand on the frame. He sat behind his desk, twirling a quill in his fingers. He looked up at her.

          “So I’ve heard.” _I don’t want you to go._ “I hope it’s pleasant.” _I’ll miss you every day._ “Don’t take any unnecessary risks, if you can help it.” _Please be safe, I can’t lose you._

She gave a tired smile. “Goodnight, Cullen.”

          “Goodnight, Tirnella.” _You’re the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met._

          Nell walked the entire way back to her quarters without realizing she’d never picked up her blanket off of Cullen’s floor. Grumbling, she fetched a spare from the linen closet near the kitchens and crept back to her room. She looked over her pack, double checking she’d brought everything she needed for the Exalted Plains. Finally, she collapsed on her bed, stretching her tired muscles pleasantly. She blew out the candles by her bed and flipped on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

          _He called me Nell._

          Across the courtyard, Cullen stood in his office, Nell’s blanket in his fingers. He stared at it, unsure of what to do. Nell had left evidence of her late night visit, a thought which frightened and thrilled him. In the end, his hesitation won over his desire. When Nell left for the Exalted Plains, he crept into her room and left the blanket neatly folded at the end of her bed.

 

 

_Cullen-_

_I’ve made contact with a Dalish clan here in the Plains and a young man has asked to join the Inquisition. His name is Loranil. After days of doing favors for the Dalish, they’ve given me their support and given him permission to join. Loranil is already on his way to Skyhold, please do your best to welcome him._

_We’ve stabilized much of the fighting here and closed all of the rifts we’ve found. Compared to what I’ve encountered recently, the Exalted Plains have been uneventful. My work here isn’t entirely finished, but it’s been three weeks and I’m eager to return home._

_Nell_

_Nell-_

_Loranil arrived the day after your letter. He is… enthusiastic, to put it lightly. Though he can be overwhelming, I appreciate his willingness to learn. I hope your return will be longer than a few days. Perhaps I can persuade you to stay at least two weeks? Travel safely._

_Cullen_

_Cullen-_

_Two weeks. You have my word._

_Nell_

 

          Tirnella’s arrival in Skyhold was quiet, as she preferred it. There were no horns sounded in her honor, or a gathering of Inquisition members to greet her. She merely made her way in with her head down and her pack tossed over her shoulder. She wandered into the main courtyard where she found Cullen training his troops.

          Nell leaned against the railing of the practice ring, watching Cullen spar with a recruit she immediately recognized as Loranil. Cullen’s normally well kept hair was ruffled and beginning to curl from the sweat that beaded on his forehead and the back of his neck. He was only in a tunic and breeches, his shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, but Loranil was giving him very little resistance, making armor unnecessary. From the looks of Cullen’s flushed cheeks and bruised hands and forearms, they’d been at it for a while. Loranil made a fatal misstep and Cullen swiped his leg out, sending the poor elf toppling to the ground. Cullen grunted in exasperation.

          “Watch your footing, Soldier, or you’ll always end up on your arse,” Cullen snapped. Loranil frowned, looking embarrassed. Cullen drove his sword into the dirt and extended a hand to him. He took it, wide eyed. Cullen heaved the boy to his feet and clapped him on the shoulder. “Keep working at it. You’ll figure it out,” he assured. The boy smiled sheepishly and scampered off. Cullen shook his head, smiling tiredly. Nell laughed softly and he looked over, his smile replaced by mild panic as he cheeks flushed darker.

          “I-Inquisitor, I, uh, I had no idea you had returned,” he stammered. Nell chuckled again, tossing her leg over the edge of the ring and pulling herself up to perch on it.

          “Care for a match, Commander?” she asked. He laughed.

          “No, I wouldn’t want to hurt you, Inquisitor,” he said mildly. Nell narrowed her eyes and pushed herself off the railing, landing with a soft thud in the dirt before him. She rose up on her toes, the only way she could come even remotely to his height.

          “Excuse me, Commander?” Cullen countered her move and took a step forward.

          “Tiny mage like you? I’d have you on your back in less than five minutes,” he threatened, though a smile quirked the corners of his mouth, it was clear he was serious. Nell raised her eyebrows, offended.

          “Mm, is that a promise?” she teased, taking a deliberate step closer so their chests were touching. Cullen chuckled softly, but there was a fresh patch of red on his cheeks and his eyes unmistakably darted down between them. He placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back onto the flats of her feet, taking away at least two inches of her height. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for her challenge. She poked a finger into his chest. “You fight with me, right now.”

          “Are you sure?”

          “Scared you’ll lose?”

          “Fine, Inquisitor, have it your way.”

          Nell huffed triumphantly and reached over the edge of the ring where she had dropped her staff. Cullen strapped his shield to his arm and lifted his sword. Though his display of bravado suggested otherwise, he seemed nervous. He held his sword in lose fingers, a mistake he wouldn’t dare make on the battlefield. Nell swung her staff forward, knocking it from his hands easily. He swore loudly, shaking his bruised fingers.

          “Don’t you dare try to go easy on me,” she warned. He knitted his eyebrows together in frustration, picked up his sword, and took the first swing. She dodged it easily, sending a small fireball his way, which he avoided just in time to save his left eyebrow. He growled and tried again, but she parried his attacks flawlessly.

          They danced around each other, both concentrating too hard to notice the small crowd of people gathered around them, watching in fascination. Each attack Cullen made was equal parts frustrated and hesitant. Nell kept him at bay easily, laughing as she did so, and it was obvious to her that he was holding back. She swung her staff up, knocking his incoming blade aside.

          “Is that all you’ve got, Chantry Boy?” she snarled, trying to get a rise out of him more than anything. His eyes widened in anger and he tossed his sword to the ground, coming at her full force with his shield. She, however, had expected this, yet made no move to avoid it. Instead, she welcomed it, discretely bracing against it and allowing him to knock her to the ground in one jarring slam. At first, he reveled in his victory, and it wasn’t until Nell did not rise to her feet that his smug grin faded. She bit back a smile and remained perfectly motionless.

          “T-Tirnella?” he asked, voice betraying the slightest amount of panic. When she didn’t answer, he immediately dropped to his knees beside her, touching her cheek. “Nell, can you hear me? Maker, I knew this was a mistake.”

          In a flash, her small hands were locked around his wrist and she tugged. The unsuspecting Commander was pulled over easily, landing with a thud on his back. He cursed again as Nell clamored over him, placing a knee in the center of his chest. She pulled the dagger from her boot and pointed it lazily at his throat, grinning smugly.

          “If I were your enemy, you’d be dead, Commander. Tell me, how does it feel, being bested by a – what was it you called me? Oh, a tiny mage,” she teased wickedly. Cullen’s eyes were widened in shock. He curled his fingers around her wrist and pulled the dagger away from his neck.

          “I thought I hurt you,” he whispered. The joy in her sneaky victory evaporated immediately and she slid off of him.

          “I’m sorry, Cullen,” she said, mirth gone from her voice. He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. It was only then that the pair noticed their onlookers, who were holding perfectly still, waiting for the Inquisitor and the Commander to make a move. Cullen rose to his feet with a groan and pulled Nell up with him by her elbow.

          “A victory well won,” he announced before adding under his breath, “for a tiny mage.” Nell, relieved at his seemingly good humor, elbowed him in the side.

          “Next time, try not to feel sorry for your opponent,” she said, winking. He gave her a tight smile and nodded.

          Truth be told, pity had nothing to do with Cullen reaction. It was pure, unadulterated terror. The fear that he’d gone too far, lost control, and somehow hurt Nell was sickening. The moment before she flipped him on his back seemed to take an eternity.

          _Maker, what have I done? Open your eyes, Nell, I’m begging you._

          It was in that brief moment that Cullen knew exactly how much he cared for Nell, and it was… well, a whole lot. He chewed his lip nervously and squinted against the setting sun. Nell had already sauntered off somewhere, no doubt to cause more trouble, and Cullen was left only with the bruises on his hands and the dirt on his back as the evidence she was ever there to begin with. He closed his eyes and sighed.

          Then her words echoed in his head. _Let it be known that Cullen Rutherford can be beaten easily by a tiny mage, so long as the tiny mage is Tirnella Trevelyan,_ he thought bitterly.

          He returned to his office feeling far more disgruntled than he should have and his buried himself in paperwork until nearly dawn, when he slipped into bed for an hour’s rest before beginning the soldier’s training anew. Nell watched for a short while from the battlements, high above the training grounds. When he saw her, he smiled, and when she smiled back he made the wrong step and was easily tripped by the recruit he’d been training.

          Cullen swore to the Maker he could hear her laughing from the ground.


	12. It's a... Nice Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tirnella tries her hand at seduction. Maybe this time they won't be too stubborn to do something about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: NSFW. Description of sexual content. Depiction of heavy drinking.

          Cullen sighed and put down his quill. He replayed the events of the previous afternoon over in his head, agonizing over every detail, analyzing every word she’d said. She had bested him so easily in their duel, it was humiliating. But, Maker, when he thought he’d hurt her, it was like his heart stopped beating in his chest. He’d lose a fight to her a thousand times if it meant keeping her safe. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. He wanted her. There was no denying it, he wanted her more each time she smiled at him. He’d tried desperately to hide his growing attachment to her, but his affection was eating away at him. She was the sun and he was kneeling before her, aching for her light.

          The door to his left swung open and Cullen jumped, immediately assuming a professional appearance. His face fell as Varric sauntered in, chest hair displayed proudly. Cullen sighed and sank back into his chair, slouching in irritation.

          “Varric,” he greeted tersely.

          “Curly,” he grinned in response. Cullen narrowed his eyes.

          “I thought I told you not to call me that.”

          “Yeah, that’s exactly why I still do it.”

          The corners of Cullen’s mouth twitched in a mix of equal parts frustration and amusement. “What do you want, Varric?”

          “I’m offering the hand of friendship. Everyone will be in the tavern tonight, celebrating the Inquisitor’s victory at Adamant and her safe return yesterday. Why don’t you take the night off from drooling over military strategy to come drool over the Inquisitor’s rear-”

          “Enough! I don’t have time for…things like that,” he paused, clearing his throat. “Unlike some people, I actually have a job to do.” He glared pointedly at Varric, who, much to his credit, did his best to ignore Cullen’s reddening cheeks. The dwarf chuckled and rolled his eyes.

          “If you say so, Curly,” Varric said airily. “But I know she’d like it if you came, if that persuades you at all.” He made his exit, whistling the whole way out the door. Cullen growled a curse to himself and returned to his paperwork, more disgruntled than he had been before. The most aggravating thing, Cullen realized, was just how correct Varric had been. The Inquisitor would be there, and Cullen could not pretend that hadn’t made his heart leap into his throat. She had been spending more time with him, and he couldn’t possibly be imagining the looks she sent his way over the war table. Despite every instinct he had telling him otherwise, he felt hope for them, and it made him giddy. The more he considered seeing her, the more excited he got. His boyish excitement, however, was diminished rather quickly by the nagging doubt that had been festering in the far corners of his mind. _What if I did imagine it? What if she didn’t want me at all?_

          When the sun went down and the tavern grew livelier, he put out his candles and walked nervously to the Herald’s Rest. His stomach was doing flips by the time he arrived. He paused outside the door to run his hands through his hair, making sure it was still in place where he wanted it. In a desperate attempt to seem relaxed, he’d shed his armor for the evening, wearing only a tunic and breeches, though he kept his sword strapped snuggly by his side. If anything were to happen, he’d be ready to protect her. He pushed open the door, greeted immediately by a cacophony of drunken voices, off key singing, and roaring laughter. The sound was obnoxious at best. After a short inspection, he spotted her across the room on the opposite side of the stairs with a gaggle of Inquisition members, ranking from Nell’s dearest friends to new recruits, all hanging on her every word as she dramatically regaled them with stories. Before he could go to her, he was stopped in his tracks by a beaming Varric.

          “Curly! What made you change your mind?” he bellowed, thrusting a tankard of ale into Cullen’s hands. He took it gratefully and downed half of it before replying.

          “You know exactly why I’m here, dwarf,” he grunted. Varric shook his head and turned to look at Tirnella.  

          “You’ve got it bad, Curly,” he observed wryly. Cullen elected to ignore that comment, praying Varric didn’t notice the red blooming on his cheeks. Varric nodded towards the Inquisitor. “I don’t know what they taught you in the Order, but usually you have to talk to women to win their hearts.”

          “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Cullen said through gritted teeth. Varric opened his mouth to speak, but Cullen noticed Cassandra and Blackwall seated near the Inquisitor and he moved towards them, narrowly avoiding Varric’s loud and unwanted advice on seduction.

          With a frustrated sigh, he lowered himself in a chair beside Cassandra, who clapped him on the shoulder.

          “Cullen!” she shouted. Maker, what was it about alcohol that made everyone so loud? “I didn’t know you ever left your office!” Cassandra, like almost all of the patrons in the tavern, appeared to have started drinking a while back. Her sloppy grin and ruffled hair seemed out of character for her, and Cullen reached over and took her nearly full tankard, setting it beside him.  

          “Thank me tomorrow,” he muttered before taking a drink. He was beginning to feel the warmth spreading in his bones and he felt pleasantly light. He looked over at Tirnella, who was standing on her stool now, still entertaining the masses with her most likely exaggerated tale. She swept up with her hands and overbalanced, toppling down. Cullen tensed in his seat, but to his relief, and dismay, Dorian caught her easily, holding her tightly to his chest. She laughed, her cheeks red and her movements slightly unstable. Dorian wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned into him. Cullen’s fist clenched against his thigh under the table. She stood on the tips of her toes and planted a kiss on his tanned cheek. Cullen’s stomach twisted uncomfortably and he downed the rest of his – well, Cassandra’s – drink as quickly as he could manage. Blackwall peered at him curiously.

          “You look like you could use another drink,” he observed. Cullen gritted his teeth.

          “Several.”

          And so the night went. Cullen progressively drank himself into a stupor, attempting to drown out the sight of her cuddled up to Dorian, her continued affection for him slowly driving Cullen mad. Dorian. Of course it was Dorian. He was handsome, charming, and certainly intelligent. And he’d been the only one there in Redcliffe, the only one who knew exactly what she went through. _Maker, end this torment._ He’d played chess with the man for Andraste’s sake, and now here he was, wrenching Cullen’s heart out of his chest and crushing it in his well manicured hands.

_She never wanted you, Rutherford. You made it all up. You’re broken. Look at you, drunk in a tavern, pining for a woman you can never have. Pathetic._

          He watched her take another long drink and she laughed, the sound echoing around in his head like chantry bells. Her red hair was glowing in the dimly lit tavern, and even from where he sat, Cullen could see the glimmer in her eyes. Sweet, brave Tirnella. Dorian pulled her into his lap and Cullen tasted blood in his mouth. His fingernails dug into his palm painfully.

          “Cullen? Are you alright?” He looked absently over at Cassandra before pushing himself up.

          “I’m heading to my quarters, actually. I’ve had enough for the night.”

          He turned to the door, cheeks burning with shame and anger. _This is just like you, Rutherford. The ever-uptight Commander goes out for once and all he does is gets sloppy drunk and leave more miserable than when he arrived._

“Cullen!” His heart sputtered in his chest. There was no mistaking that voice. He turned just as Nell came bounding into him. He steadied her, despite his own drunkenness.

          “Inquisitor?”

          “You’re leaving?” she asked.

          “I am, yes,” he said quietly, avoiding her gaze. She furrowed her eyebrows together in concern, but before she could say anything, Dorian was by her side.

          “Nell, for the last time, sit down before you hurt yourself,” he said seriously, reaching for her. Nell giggled and dogged his hands, Cullen immediately forgotten. Before she could look at him again, he slipped out into the cold night air, trying to fight the familiar sting in the corners of his eyes.

          In his office, he did his best to work, desperately trying to focus on paperwork and not the Inquisitor. After an hour or so, he gave up, resigning himself to tossing in his bed instead.

          Despite the odds being against him, Cullen managed to climb up his ladder without injury. He flopped onto his bed and rubbed his eyes angrily. He thought of Dorian, his annoying arrogance was the perfect antithesis to Cullen’s proclivity towards self loathing and disaster. Where Dorian was strong and handsome, Cullen was beaten down and scarred, one far more desirable than the other. Then, he thought of Nell. He thought of her laughter, loud and frequent and always delightful. He thought of the freckles that peppered her nose and how they darkened when she’d been in the sun. He thought of her courage and her strength, both of which made her a remarkable leader. He thought of her hair, always carefully braided away from her face. He thought of her hands, tiny but strong, and how desperately he wanted to feel her hands on him. Maker, he’d do anything for her to touch him – to feel her skin on his own, unashamed, holding nothing back. His heart ached with want, and soon his cock followed suit, hardening painfully. He felt a flash of guilt at his arousal, not wanting to diminish her by thinking of her in that way, but eventually the alcohol and his own weakness paired beautifully and he stuffed his hand into his trousers like a fucking teenage boy and stroked himself, his breath catching in his throat.

          He thought of what it would be like to make love to her. He imagined the many ways he could reduce her to whimpers, touch her until the only word she remembers is his name. He pictured her gripping his shoulders as he entered her again and again. She would scrape her nails down his back and it would only make him want her more. He imagined the look of desire in her icy blue eyes as she looked at him. He would intertwine his fingers with hers and he would kiss the back of her hand so she knew that his heart was hers to have. And then when they were finished, he would hold her against him, caressing her cheek, whispering in her ear, _I love you, I love you, I love you._

          That does him in and he comes with an embarrassing groan. For a moment, he only lays there, breathing heavy, staring out the stupid hole in his own stupid ceiling, and all at once he feels ice cold and very sober. This, his freezing tower and his own damaged soul, isn’t what Tirnella wants, he’s certain. He tugged his tunic over his head, having ruined it with his seed, and tossed it into a corner. Out of habit, he fetched another tunic, tugging it roughly over his head. His boots were tossed in the corner soon after. He collapsed onto the bed, welcoming the cold. It occured to him that he knew exactly why he’d abandoned the armor for the evening; he’d been trying to look less like the Commander, less like the soldier, less like himself, because deep inside he knew that despite whatever meaningful glances he’d conjured in his head, she would never be his. It was a shame, for he was already hers entirely. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he could not stop the tears that spilled from the corners. Shivering, he thought of Dorian again. He thought of how he was probably touching her at that very moment, in his bed, or hers. It was Dorian, not Cullen, who would hold her tonight as she drifted off. It would be Dorian who would whisper comfort to her in the darkness when she woke from a nightmare. And it would be he who would wake beside her in the morning. The thought made Cullen’s stomach turn unpleasantly. The only comfort he could draw was the hope that Dorian was the happiness she deserved, for he knew she deserved so much of it.

          Suddenly, he heard a soft rustling below him in his office. He remained still, breathing as evenly as he could manage until a voice broke the silence.

          “Cullen?”

He froze, listening again. He heard the door creak shut and light footsteps cross the room. “Cullen?” she tried again. With a start, he realized it was Nell.

          “I’m up here,” he called out to her shakily, heart beating so furiously he worried it might stop. There was a long silence, followed by a soft thud and a quiet curse from roughly where his desk is.

          “Can I come up?” she asked from the darkness. He choked.

          _The Maker has a sick sense of humor._ “Of course.” Hastily, he rose, looking down through the hole in the floor where the ladder was attached. He offered her a hand when she reached the top and she accepted it gratefully. With a huff, she sat on the edge of his bed and kicked off her boots. Cullen swallowed nervously. He feared she could somehow detect what he’d just done, that she would know he’d taken himself in hand and thought of her. Trying not to make his panic obvious, he sat beside her on the bed, hands clasped safely in his lap. They said nothing for a while, Nell picking at a loose thread in her clothes and Cullen gazing skyward, cursing his poor timing.

“Where’s Dorian?” he asked abruptly. Nell looked at him, confused.

          “In bed, I imagine. He and Bull seemed rather eager to be left alone,” she mused. Cullen nearly choked.

          “Iron Bull and Dorian are… involved?” he asked, his relief thinly veiled with casual curiosity. She laughed.

          “You didn’t know? Maker, it’s the talk of Skyhold.” Cullen could have wept right then and there. “Poor Dorian was stuck babysitting me all night when I’m sure all he wanted to do was be with Bull. Can I lie down? I’m still a little drunk.” He was so distracted with relief that Dorian and Nell were most certainly _not_ sleeping together that he nearly missed her question.

          “Hmm? Oh, um, of course.”

          “Thank you. I feel… I don’t know. Sick? Cold? I feel something.” She tugged her braid loose and shook out her wavy hair. Cullen took in a quick breath. She was strikingly beautiful, especially when her hair fell in messy waves around her face. With a cat-like stretch, she nestled against his pillows.

          “Here.” He pulled the blanket up over her shoulders and wrapped her in it before cautiously laying down beside her. While it wasn’t the first time she’d come to see him at night, Cullen certainly felt it was the strangest. He couldn’t stop worrying that she would see right through him and be disgusted. He chewed his lip nervously. Nell snuggled against him and sighed happily. Hope bloomed in his chest.

          “Cullen?”

          “Hmm?”

          “I’m glad you came tonight. I wish we could have talked more.”

          Cullen took a steadying breath, suddenly feeling very silly. His jealousy, it seemed, was caused by another figment of his imagination. He looked over at Nell. She was smiling at him and he felt dizzy. “Me too,” he whispered back. She sighed and rolled onto her back, mirroring Cullen.

          “Tell me about your family.”

          “Again?”

          “Tell me more,” she huffed, elbowing him in the side. He chuckled.

          “Well, have I ever told you the story of the day I nearly burned the farm to the ground?

          “No, you haven’t.”

          “My mother was trying to teach me to bake. It was a disaster.”

          He continued telling stories, his voice echoing around the otherwise still room. Nell lay beside him, silent. A few times, he was sure she’d fallen asleep, and it was only when she’d turn to watch him talk that he would keep going. After a while, with sleep tugging his eyelids downward, he noticed her breathing had become deeper and slower. He placed a soft kiss to her cheek before allowing the night to claim him as well.

 

          Cullen always rose before the sun; it was his custom. So, when he opened his eyes to see light streaming in through the hole in the ceiling, he was startled. When he looked to his side and saw Nell curled up beside him, snoring softly, he was shocked. She had never stayed the night before. The two of them had danced awkwardly around her late night visits, both never acknowledge them after they had happened. He felt a pang of sudden guilt as he watched her sleep. He should have woken her up, he knew it, but they were both too drunk and too tired. And if he was honest, he wanted her to stay. In the last fleeting minutes of consciousness before sleep claimed him, he considered waking her, knowing she would’ve wanted it that way, but he couldn’t. He was selfish and her small, warm body curled against his was calming in a way he didn’t think possible. For Cullen, her presence was a chance at peace, a night without waking covered in sweat with the blood of old wounds on his hands. But as the rising sun shed light on his decision, he only felt sick. She sighed in her sleep and wriggled even closer to him. He inched away, trying not to wake her. His efforts proved unsuccessful and she woke with a groan. Cullen sat watching her, waiting for the gears to turn. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she shot up, squinting at the hole in the ceiling.

          “Fuck,” she hissed. “It’s morning. I stayed all night.” He nodded slowly, trying to read her expression.

          “Nell, I’m sorry,” Cullen murmured. She rounded on him, confusion knitting her brows. “I should have woken you. I know you didn’t want to stay the night.”

          She gaped at him for a moment, her face contemplative and calculating. Finally, she spoke, the Inquisitor shining through briefly in her firm voice.

          “Cullen, I fell asleep after you,” she said. “I had plenty of time to leave.”

          One by one the words sunk in. The very idea of Nell choosing to stay was difficult for Cullen to grasp, but the reality of it was a far stranger thing to hear. He recalled the first time she’d visited him in the night. He’d taken her hand. “You don’t have to go,” he’d breathed. The left side of her mouth quirked up in to a smirk.

          “If I stay until morning, we have to talk about it, so I don’t.” Her reply was clear: Tirnella never intended to stay the night. She never intended to complicate their relationship beyond the friendship they had cultivated. And yet, there she was, sitting beside him, her hair tousled from sleep and her cheek imprinted with the lines from his pillow. The sun was shining on the both of them and Skyhold had already come to life. There she was in the light of the morning and all Cullen wanted to do was kiss her. And now, despite everything he’d told himself, it seemed she may even want to kiss him back. His heart thumped heavily in his chest as he watched her. She cleared her throat awkwardly and he realized it was his turn to speak.

          “Nell… I – um, we don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t – I mean, it’s just… I have troops to train,” he finished lamely. _What the fuck are you doing, Rutherford?_ Nell laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

          “Commander of the Inquisition, terrified of a woman. Is it my political power that intimidates you?” she asked. He reddened, covering his face with his hands.

          “Shut up, Nell. You know what I mean.” She laughed again, but it was neither chastising, nor cruel. The sound made him smile, in spite of his clumsy words. “If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so,” he added.

          “No, I _want_ to talk about it. I – it’s time we do, we can’t keep on the way we have. Um, I mean, if _you_ want to that is.”

          He looked at her, a little stunned at the girlish self-consciousness in her voice. “I want to.”

          “Let’s go for a walk,” she suggested, jumping from the bed to retrieve the boots she kicked off the night before.

          “N-now?” Cullen choked.

          “The troops can wait.”

          A little while later, when they had both freshened up, they were walking along the battlements overlooking the mountains. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck anxiously and squinted at the sun. He’d played this conversation in his head so many times he wasn’t even sure what to expect anymore. He focused on breathing, in and out, in and out, until he realized it had been too long since either of them had spoken.

          “It’s a nice day,” he stammered. His voice seemed to shake Nell from her own thoughts. She turned to him abruptly.

          “What?”

          He blinked at her dumbly before speaking again. “It’s… There was something you wished to discuss.”

          Nell felt a surge of nerves. She’d faced down monsters and demons alike, yet this stammering, blonde, ex-Templar made her heart beat furiously. “Cullen, I care for you, and-” She sighed, her lighthearted disposition evaporated, replaced by an old insecurity that made her wring her hands nervously and drop her gaze. Cullen, his own worries forgotten, looked at her with concern.

          “What’s wrong?” he asked, voice soft. Nell took in a breath and began again.

          “You left the Templars, but do you trust mages? Could you think of me as anything more?”

          Cullen answered without hesitation. “I could. I mean, I do… think of you, and what I might say in this sort of situation.” At his last word, he looked over at Nell, his sudden resolve diminishing.

“What’s stopping you?” Nell asked, leaning against the stone wall of the battlements. Cullen stepped forward, his head hanging slightly.

          “You’re the Inquisitor. We’re at war, and you… I didn’t think it was possible.”

          Nell bit back a laugh at the absurdity. _He didn’t think it was possible._ After everything they’d been through, he still remained willfully blind to her affection.  She placed her palm on his chest. “And yet I’m still here,” she whispered. Cullen’s eyes widened briefly in understanding and his lips parted in surprise. Then, he adopted that familiar smirk, his scar stretching slightly with the movement. He moved closer, placing both of his hands on the stone wall behind her.

          “So you are,” he murmured. “It seems too much to ask, but I want to.”

          For a few heartbeats, Cullen leaned in, his fingers sliding over to grip her hips, gently pulling her to him. He could practically taste her on his lips already, and the thought of her made his head spin in the most pleasant way. The past few months of torment – dancing around each other, both too frightened, too unsure to take the first step – they were all coming to an end, and he couldn’t be more ready. He wanted her and she wanted him. It seemed too perfect to be real. Surely, this was the cruelest kind of nightmare, one that started more beautiful than he could imagine, only to end in horror.

          “Commander.” Cullen’s eyes snapped open and he looked at Nell who returned his exasperated look perfectly. “You wanted a copy of Sister Leliana’s report.” His expression melted into a mask of pure fury. With clenched fists and a tense jaw, he turned to the scout.

          “ _What?_ ” he growled. The scout looked up, his eyes turning to the size of saucers as he noticed the Inquisitor, still leaning against the stone wall, looking anywhere but him.

          “Sister Leliana’s report? You wanted it delivered without delay,” he continued stupidly. Cullen stepped forward, shoulders tensed in rage. “Or…to your office…right.” He turned on his heel and practically sprinted back to Cullen’s office.

          Nell sighed, disappointment evident on her face. Cullen clenched his fist, watching the empty air the scout had just occupied.

          He had spent his entire life being inactive. In Ferelden, he let his torment warp his view of mages until he became unrecognizably hateful. In Kirkwall, he turned a blind eye to Meredith’s evil, wanting desperately to believe that the order he’d given his life to hadn’t become a corrupt wreck. The opportunity to act was in his hands again, and he refused to let it slip by another time.

          “Cullen, if you need to-” And then he was kissing her. He took her face in his hands and pulled her to him, pressing his lips to hers with the urgency of a man drowning. A surprised noise escaped her throat, but she quickly returned the kiss, twisting her fingers in the fur of his coat. After a few moments, he pulled away, cheeks flushed.

          “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “That was…um, really nice.” A boyish grin spread across his face. Nell giggled breathlessly.

          “ _That_ was what I wanted,” she said.

          “Oh,” Cullen said, smirking. “Good.” He pulled her close, kissing her again. It was slower the second time, their mouths exploring each other tentatively. Nell’s lips parted as Cullen’s tongue brushes hers. His fingers trailed down her spine, leaving a trail of tingling electricity behind. Everything was so new to her, the way he tasted, the way he felt. She wound her fingers around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

          It was Nell who pulled away the second time. Cullen sighed happily, resting his forehead against Nell’s. She stroked his unshaven cheek, smiling.

          “You know, I’ll bet no less than six of your soldiers have passed us, Commander.”

          Cullen rolled his eyes and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles reverently.

          “Any soldier who says a word will be stationed in the Western Approach _permanently._ ”

          “You’re absolutely tyrannical,” she teased. He intertwined his fingers with hers, looking down at their hands.

          “I never thought… Maker, Nell, I thought it was impossible you’d ever want me,” Cullen admitted quietly.

          “Why would you think that? I’ve been shamelessly throwing myself at you for weeks,” she said, playfully nudging his shoulder. He chuckled softly but didn’t meet her eyes.

          “A woman like you deserves the world. I can only give you me.”

          Briefly, she considered teasing him, as she always did, but the vulnerability on his face made her heart squeeze with emotion. She took his face in her hands and tilted his head up so he was looking directly at her. “Cullen, you are all I want.” At this, a sheepish smile began to spread over his scarred lips.

          “C-can I kiss you again?” Nell laughed.

          “You don’t have to ask.” He took her face in his hands, taking time to press a light kiss to her forehead, her cheeks, and the tip of her nose before kissing her properly. She giggled and twisted her fingers in her hair. Eventually they broke apart and he pressed one last soft kiss to her lips. “As much as I would like to stay here with you, I have soldiers to train. _Your_ soldiers, in fact. I’ll see you this evening?” He offered the last sentence as a question, uncertainty briefly crossing his handsome features. Nell kissed his cheek.

“Most definitely, Commander.”

          With that, Cullen returned to his office, a smug smirk plastered on his normally serious face, and Nell practically skipped to her quarters.

          Later that night, she headed to Cullen’s tower. She had walked that route a thousand times since arriving in Skyhold, but this time was different. She was buzzing with nervous energy, her heart fluttering in her chest. She paused outside his door and fidgeted with her braid, absently wondering if she looked alright, which made her scoff. “He’s seen you covered in dirt and demon blood, you look fine,” she whispered to herself, raising her fist to knock. Suddenly, an arm slid around her waist, pulling her close.

          “Yes, you do,” Cullen murmured in her ear. “Lovely, actually.” She covered her face with her hands.

          “I thought you were in your office,” she mumbled, embarrassed. He chuckled, pushing open the door and leading her inside.

          “I was taking a walk,” he said casually. She narrowed her eyes.

          “At night?”

          “Fresh air.” He shrugged, but his cheeks went pink.

          “You were nervous!” she shouted, giggling. “You were nervous to see me, admit it.” He growled and pulled her against him and kissed her softly.

          “Hmm, and who was talking to herself outside my door?” he mused. “Consider us even.” She laughed.

          “Why is this so hard?” she asked, resting her head on his chest. He stroked her hair, still a little unused to being able to touch her without feeling improper.

          “You are the most intimidating woman in Thedas,” he said. He cleared his throat and began again, a little softer this time. “You’ll have to forgive me, Nell, this is all new to me. If I seem uncertain, it’s because it’s been a long time since I wanted anybody in my life.” Nell pulled her head back to look at him. He kissed her forehead. “But I want you.”

          “What exactly do you want though?” Nell asked. “What is… this?” She gestured to the two of them before crossing her arms, hugging herself nervously. Cullen cleared his throat.

          “What do you want it to be?”

          Nell considered this carefully, but instead of answering, she only stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him again. When they broke apart, she touched the tip of her nose to his. “I want it to be us together, and nothing else. As long as I have you, I have what I need.” Cullen made a small little hum in the back of his throat as he tightened his arms around her.

          “As you wish.”  

          They sat together on the couch in his office, telling stories and talking. It felt so natural, so safe, and so much more satisfying now that they could pause to kiss each other. Sometimes, in the middle of Cullen’s sentence, she would crawl into his lap and kiss him, winding her fingers in his golden hair. His breath would stutter as she swallowed the story he’d been telling, and he would wrap his arms around her, one around her shoulders, the other on the small of her back. Much to his credit, his hands never wandered anywhere she didn’t want them. It was chaste, more or less, and very loving. She felt dizzy from the way his tongue brushed hers, and the way his strong fingers pressed into her back, pinning her against him. His embrace was tight, but not restraining.

          After a couple hours, Nell’s eyes drooped and Cullen’s voice began to fade away. She was leaning on Cullen’s shoulder and he was reading to her, his voice rumbling deep in his chest, vibrating her cheek. She hadn’t realized her eyes had closed until he shut the book and lightly touched her cheek.

          “Nell, sweetheart, wake up,” he said. She made a small disgruntled noise and he laughed, taking her hand. “You can stay here tonight, if you want,” he offered, playing with a stray lock of her hair. She opened her eyes and lifted her head.

          “I can?” she asked. He laughed again.

          “Of course you can.” She bit her lip and glanced up at his ladder.

          “Are we… are we going to… um, you know,” she paused, waving her hand vaguely. Cullen’s brow creased and he put his hand on her cheek.

          “Only if you wanted to, but I was asking if you’d like to sleep here, nothing more,” he assured her.

          “A woman in your quarters and that’s all you’re asking for?” she asked.

          “Of course,” he said.  

She smiled and he watched her, his amber eyes filled with affection, and it startled her to realize she knew that look all too well – she’d seen it in his eyes every single day since they came to Skyhold, but it was only just becoming clear to her. She couldn’t help smiling as she kissed him lightly on the mouth.

          “When you kissed me today, how long had you wanted to do that?” she asked. Cullen sighed, embarrassed.

          “Longer than I should admit,” he said quietly. He snaked his arm around her middle, pulling her into his lap. She leaned against him. “Honestly, even in Haven I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

          “We argued all the time!” Nell said, laughing. He nodded, nuzzling against her hair.

          “Oh, you frustrated me like no woman I’d ever met before, but that didn’t make you any less enchanting,” he said.

          “Let’s go upstairs,” she said, tracing her finger down the scar on his lip. He slid his hand under her knees and back, lifting her up and setting her down by the ladder.

          “I’ll be up in a minute. I need to lock the doors and put out the candles.”

 

          When he climbed the ladder a few minutes later, he found Nell sitting cross legged on his bed, a stack of papers in her hands. He paused when he realized what they were. He had been reading a few nights before and had forgotten to take them off the nightstand. Her eyes drifted upwards, spotting him.

          “My letters?” she asked, confused. He rubbed the back of his neck, swallowing hard. “You kept them?”

          “Sometimes I – uh, I read them, when you’re not in Skyhold. I just… it makes it… easier,” he finished, rubbing his face with his hands, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

          “Come here,” Nell instructed gently. Cullen obeyed, standing in front of her with red cheeks. She kissed his hand.

          “I kept yours too,” she admitted. His shoulders relaxed and he bent down to kiss her, edging her back on the bed slightly. He stopped after only a moment, intending to make good on his vows. She pouted slightly when he moved off of her to lay on his back by her side. He blew out the candle she’d lit on the table beside them and cuddled up behind her, sliding his arm under her head, his chest flush against her back. She kissed his bicep.

          “Nell?” he whispered.

          “Yes?”

          “Does it bother you that I was once a Templar?” he asked quietly. She twisted in his arms, turning to face him.

          “When I first met you, I thought you would be like the other Templars I had known. I was scared of you. But you proved everything I expected wrong. You’re a good man, Cullen.” She kissed the underside of his unshaven jaw, her fingers twisting in his shirt. “I trust you completely. It doesn’t bother me at all.” He closed his eyes when she kissed his neck, holding her tighter.

          “I will never hurt you, Tirnella, I swear,” he said. 

          She nestled under his chin and traced patterns on his chest. They fell asleep like that, holding one another. Cullen’s sleep was only interrupted by a nightmare once, and he woke shaking. But when he opened his eyes, he found Nell curled up against him, still holding onto his hand, and he felt safe.

 


	13. The Life of the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tirnella and Cullen adjust to their relationship while the Inquisition prepares for the Winter Palace. Hurt and comfort ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mention of food and drinking. Mild descriptions of violence.

          The next morning, Nell awoke to the soft rustling of parchment and the scratch of a quill. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and turned over, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the hole in Cullen’s roof. Cullen sat beside her, a stack of reports on his lap and a quill in his ink stained fingers. His eyes flickered over and he smiled. Nell propped herself up on one elbow and peered down at the report he was writing.

          “Cullen Rutherford, are you doing reports in bed?” she asked, flopping back down on her pillow. Cullen chuckled and moved his work to the table beside him before bending down to kiss her.

          “I couldn’t ignore my work or leave you, a compromise had to be made,” he said softly, fingers playing with a lock of her hair. Nell laughed and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

          “As your leader, I give you permission to ignore your work and stay in bed with me all day,” she said. Cullen shook his head.

          “As your advisor, I’ll have to politely disobey your suggestion. The ball at the Winter Palace is fast approaching, I have a great deal to prepare for.”

          Nell pouted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Cullen laughed and took her in his arms, positioning himself on top of her. He cupped her cheeks with his hands and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She made a quiet sigh in the back of her throat, softening at his touch almost instantly. He kissed her again, deeper this time. With one hand twisted in her hair and the other drifting down the curve of her hips, her held her close. The nervous awkwardness of the previous night had quickly dissipated between them, replaced now with eagerness – eagerness to explore each other outside of the boundaries they’d been restrained by for months. Cullen’s lips hovered over the pulse in her throat, brushing her skin softly. He raised his eyes to hers and she smiled at him. With a smirk, his mouth sought hers, an action he was steadily growing more familiar with. She groaned, taking fistfuls of the front of his shirt. When she hooked one of her legs around his waist, he felt dizzy. Eventually, though it agonized him to do so, Cullen broke the embrace, his breath rapid and his heart thundering. Nell looked up at him uncertainly, taking her lower lip between her teeth.

          “Is everything alright?” she asked. Cullen laughed.

          “Everything is perfect,” he said breathlessly. “But if you don’t stop touching me we will never leave this room.” Nell’s eyes briefly flickered downward and Cullen caught her hands in his before she could move. “Don’t even think about it. I promise you, this evening I’m all yours.”

          Nell sighed, but gave a defeated nod. Cullen lowered himself back to her side, motioning for her to move closer. “Fine, but you owe me twenty more minutes,” she said, voice muffled against Cullen’s chest. He kissed the top of her head.

          “Anything, my dear.”

 

 

          For the next several days, Nell and the Advisors discussed the Winter Palace at length. It was likely going to be one of the most difficult missions Nell had been on, and it required endless hours with Josephine going over Orlesian etiquette and conversation. The entirety of it only made Nell more nervous. She was going into the center of Orlesian politics essentially unarmed and clueless, and she’d never felt more unprepared. She spent most of her evenings locked away in her quarters, practicing and rehearsing everything she’d learned. She inspected her uniform constantly, looking for the best places to conceal weapons. She exhausted herself with her work, leaving only enough energy to crawl into her bed at night for a restless sleep.

          It became increasingly difficult to spend time with Cullen, and though he never complained, she knew it upset him. Aside from occasional kissing in deserted hallways, she’d spent most of her two week relationship with him on the other side of the War Table. As the days dragged on, Nell began to notice a bit of sadness in the smiles he offered her, though she never stayed long enough after their meetings to ask about it.

          As she had been for the previous two weeks, Nell sat hunched in her chair, scribbling notes on a report, tapping her fingers anxiously on the surface of the desk. The sun had long since set and she hadn’t left her room since midday. She glanced out the window and a pang of loneliness hit her as she gazed over a darkened Skyhold, knowing most of her friends had probably gone to sleep hours ago. She sighed and returned to her work.

          “Something troubling you?” Nell jumped, tired eyes squinting in the dim light for a source of the voice. Cullen stood at the top of the stairs, a tray of food in his hands. Nell sighed and slumped against her desk.

          “Maker, you must think I’m avoiding you,” she said. Cullen cleared his throat nervously.          

          “The thought crossed my mind,” he replied.

          “Forgive me, I’ve been spending all my time preparing for the Winter Palace and I know I’ve neglected you in the process. I’m sorry.”

          “Nell, don’t,” he said gently, coming to her side. He set the tray on the edge of her desk and knelt in front of her chair. “Don’t be sorry, I only wanted to bring you something to eat, I figured you’d skipped dinner.” She hung her head slightly.

          “You figured correctly,” she grumbled. Cullen cupped her chin and tilted her head up. He kissed her forehead before pulling her to her feet.

          “Take a break and eat,” he said, guiding her to the couch. She made no move to resist, settling against the cushions with a groan. Cullen brought the tray and sat beside her, letting her eat in silence for a few minutes. She leaned against his shoulder.

          “I need to stop being so worried about that stupid ball,” she said quietly. Cullen chuckled softly.

          “What has you so frightened?” he asked. Nell shrugged.

          “I haven’t been around nobility since I was eleven, I don’t remember how to act or talk, and I certainly don’t know how to negotiate politics. I feel unprepared, and I’ve only got a week left to figure it all out.”

          “Nell, I know you’re nervous, but _can_ do this. You are clever, you don’t need to lose sleep over this. I have absolute faith in you. I’ll be with you the whole time, I won’t let anything happen.”

          Nell sighed and lowered herself on the cushions, resting her head in Cullen’s lap. He ran his fingers through her hair absentmindedly. She turned onto her back and looked up at him. “Will you please stay with me tonight?” she asked quietly. “I’ve missed you.” Cullen’s heart wrenched slightly as he noticed the quiet uncertainty in her question – the way she looked away as she said it. She’d said please, as if he would let anything in the world keep him from her.

          “I’ve been waiting days for you to ask that,” he replied. Light bloomed in her eyes and she grinned.

          It didn’t take long after that for Nell’s eyelids to droop and her breathing to quiet. Gently, he slid his arms underneath her and lifted, carrying her to her bed. She stirred briefly, reaching to take a handful of the front of his tunic. He set her down and pried her hand loose so he could untie her boots. Just as he went to pull the blanket over her shoulders, she opened her eyes.

          “For Andraste’s sake, Cullen, who sleeps in leather trousers?” she grumbled tiredly. “Help me get these off.” Cullen rolled his eyes as he tugged her breeches down her legs and tossed them to the floor. She sighed happily and curled up beneath the blankets. He crawled in beside her, smiling when she squirmed to get closer to him. Within seconds, she was asleep again, her body going slack in his arms. It occurred to him that he should probably be nervous with his very attractive, quiet pantsless lover lying beside him, but he wasn’t. Somehow, despite the newness of their relationship, he felt at ease going to bed with her, kissing her, talking to her. It was like all the tension and anxiety from before had broken, and he felt at home.

         

          The next week passed in a blur of meetings, formal wear fittings, and sleepless nights. Quite late in the evenings, when work was done, Nell would make her way to Cullen’s quarters, or he to hers, and the two would collapse into bed, only to be woken in a few short hours. Thought they spent almost every night in bed together, their relationship remained chaste. It was not that they did not want one other, there were more than a few times they would pause between kisses and lock eyes, hearts both racing, and the thought would cross their mind. Yet, something always stopped them. Whether it was the sheer exhaustion from a long day of preparation, an unlucky interruption during a particularly heated embrace in an empty hall, or Nell’s inexperience, they never made it too far. It wasn’t, however, by Tirnella’s insistence, but by Cullen’s. Once, after a particularly long war meeting, they stopped in the stairwell between the Great Hall and Nell’s quarters. Cullen told her gently, after stopping her hands from wander too low, “Tirnella, I’m not taking your maidenhead in this stairwell, so don’t even try.” He was met with a frustrated eye roll and a giggle. By the evening, she was asleep before she could even get to a bed. They tried to maintain discretion, but Nell did not miss the whispers and giggles that came from the guards and the servants as they passed. She told Cullen this one night, making him groan in irritation.

          “You wouldn’t believe how quickly gossip spreads through the barracks,” he said. Nell lifted herself up on one arm to look at his face.

          “Does it bother you?”

          “I would rather my – _our_ – private affairs remained that way. But if there were nothing here for people to talk about, I would regret it more.”

          Nell went to reply, but before she could, his mouth was on hers again and his fingers were trailing down her spine – her answer soon forgotten. 

          The morning she was set to leave for Orlais, Cullen shook her shoulder long before the sun had risen. Nell groaned and buried her face in her pillow. They’d stayed in his quarters that night after Nell had pulled him away from his work. A light snowfall had begun through the hole in his ceiling. After a great deal of coaxing, Cullen managed to get Nell upright and in her armor. She tied her hair back into a braid and yawned as she climbed down the ladder and out of Cullen’s office. She made her way to her quarters to gather her supplies and weapons before going to the courtyard so the party could set off for Orlais. Nell shook little snowflakes from her hair and brushed them off of her clothes as they fell, smiling at the little dusting of white gathering on the ground. Cullen arrived a minute later, now fully clad in his armor. He greeted his soldiers and the other two advisors before he turned his eyes to Nell. He bowed his head respectfully.

          “Inquisitor,” he said softly. Nell nodded in his direction.

          “Commander, glad you could join us,” she replied. A small smirk played on Cullen’s mouth as he moved away from her to inspect his mount. Nell cleared her throat and turned her back as well, feeling as though every eye in Skyhold was suddenly turned toward her. Cullen had joined her when the Inquisition attacked Adamant, but this was the first time the two of them had been on official business since they began their relationship. They’d sworn to remain distant and appropriate. Though she doubted many were unaware of them, it eased her nerves to pretend. For the first time in weeks, they would sleep in separate tents on the journey, and their conversations would be limited to strictly Inquisition business.

          After nearly a full day of traveling, the Inquisition members made camp. Work was done quickly, and soon a roaring fire was burning at the center of the camp. Nell had her own tent, with a cot and blankets already set up for her. After a long evening of last minute checks and inventories with her advisors and listening to Iron Bull’s ridiculous stories by the fire, she wandered back to her tent, grateful for the quiet.

          Snow had started back up again and Nell shivered as she shed her armor and thick clothes. She climbed into bed in the darkness, sighing loudly. Just as she felt herself falling asleep, there was a rustling against the canvas of her tent. Nell tensed, eyes searching the darkness. The tent flaps separated for only a moment before they were closed again, and a tall shadow stood before her.

          “Nell?” the figure whispered. She sighed and sank back down against her cot.

          “Maker, Cullen, you scared the life out of me. What are you doing here?” she asked. Cullen crept forward, sitting on the edge of her cot.

          “Forgive me, I only wanted to see you,” he said sheepishly. Nell scooted over and pushed her blankets aside, making room for him. He slid in beside her and pulled her against his chest.

          “What happened to remaining a professional distance, Commander?” Nell teased, kissing his cheek. Cullen sighed.

          “I missed you and I am a weak man,” he muttered. “I’ll leave before the first light, our secret is safe.” Nell smiled as he ran his fingers through her hair. She sighed happily, her heavy eyelids drooping.

          “The last time we were in a tent like this, I was mostly naked,” she whispered. Cullen chuckled, the sound rumbling low in his chest.

          “I hardly noticed,” he muttered. Nell snorted.

          “Right, and I hardly noticed how much you blushed when I awoke.”

          “You shouldn’t tease me, Inquisitor, I saved your life,” Cullen said as he pressed his lips against the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She leaned against him, sighing happily.

          “I’ll tease you as much as I like, this is my tent,” she replied. Cullen nuzzled against her hair, holding her until they were both asleep.

 

          As he promised, Cullen left her bed before the run rose. He pulled himself from her grip and quietly left her tent to go to his own. The sun rose and the camp was broken down and the Inquisition moved forward. Cullen smiled at Nell from atop his horse, making her blush. From the horse beside her, Dorian gave her a knowing smirk.

          The travel was slow, but Orlais drew closer quicker than Nell liked. Before she knew it, the smell of expensive spices and perfume hung in the air, and the shimmering marble walls of the city came into view. Nell and her personal group members split from the rest and prepared for the ball. The advisors, Cole, Dorian, and Cassandra, washed and dressed in their formal uniforms. Nell put her hair in her normal braid, tugging on it nervously as she inspected herself in the bedroom of the chateau Josephine had prepared for them. Her uniform fit snuggly, showing off more of her figure than she was accustomed to with her many layers and leather armor. She glanced at her bed longingly, eager to return to it after the party, as she left to meet the others in the foyer.

          Despite having comparatively few resources, the Inquisition did not fail to equal the grandeur of the Orlesian nobility as the carriages and horses made their way to the entrance of the Winter Palace. Nell’s horse, now adorned with a gold trimmed saddle, walked slowly along the stone path, directly in front of her advisors’ mounts.

          The Winter Palace was exquisitely beautiful, leaving Nell captivated as she grew closer to its ornately carved stone walls and blooming gardens. She heard the soft rush of a fountain just beyond the gates.

          As Josephine instructed, she dismounted her horse gracefully and passed it to an Inquisition scout, who would be taking the mounts back outside the palace walls. Josephine came up beside Nell, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Behind her, Leliana and Cullen stood looking significantly less chipper. Nell gave them each one last nod before she led them all inside, past the giant gates of the palace.

 

 

          If Nell wasn’t finished with the Winter Palace by the first dance, she certainly was by the time her party found the Venatori soldiers within the courtyard, and even more so upon the discovery of numerous corpses of innocent servants. The farther Nell dug into the complexities of the Empress’ palace, the more deceit and insidious intentions she uncovered. It seemed every corner she turned revealed another murderer, another liar, another cheat. She’d even been secretly approached by the Empress’ occult advisor, Lady Morrigan, who offered her assistance in the Empress’ name. Dodging the Nobility and their ridiculous questions had almost become easy to Nell as she floated elegantly around the ballroom, chatting with the rich, ignorant nobles. To them, she was the picture of social grace. The women watched her with judging eyes and whispered behind ornate fans. The men’s eyes lingered far too long below her neck. Nell felt a flash of anger as she saw one man blatantly point her chest out to his partner beside him, but she held her tongue. As soon as she was able, she delved back into the chaos, working just a bit further each time she vanished from the party.

          During a longer interlude in the ballroom, Nell spotted Cullen beside a large window, the moonlight shining against his right shoulder. Surrounding him was a gaggle of Orlesians, each dressed more obnoxiously than the last, each practically leaning on Cullen, leering smiles on their heavily made up faces. Cullen’s jaw was tense as he talked with them, his amber eyes stone cold as they wandered around the ballroom. His gaze fell on Nell and his features softened into a look that appeared almost helpless. Nell went to him, her strides confident as she approached him. The nobles politely stepped backward, allowing Nell space.

          “You’ve attracted a following,” she murmured. “Who are all these people?”

          “I don’t know,” Cullen sighed. “But they won’t leave me alone.”

          “Not enjoying the attention then?” Nell teased. Cullen grimaced, crossing his arms in front of him.

          “Hardly. Anyway, yours –” he cleared his throat and lowered his voice, leaning towards her ever so slightly, “ _yours_ is the only attention worth having.”

          Nell blushed. “I don’t suppose you’d save a dance for me?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at the couples sweeping across the dance floor. Cullen answered immediately.

          “No, thank you,” he said. Nell’s shoulders slumped and she looked away, embarrassed. Cullen’s eyes widened and he broke his stance to reach for her hand. “No! I didn’t mean to – Maker’s breath, I’ve answered that question so many times I’m rejecting it automatically. I’m not one for dancing, The Templars never attended balls.” He shrugged, his cheeks turning pink.

          Nell smiled understandingly, withdrawing her hand. “I have to go, but I’ll find you again in a little while.”

          Cullen smiled crookedly. “Be safe,” he whispered, quiet enough to go unheard by his admirers. As Nell walked away, she heard a woman with a very high pitched voice ask Cullen if he was married. She smiled as he answered, “not yet, but I am already taken.” He said it firmly, surely, and without an ounce of hesitation.

          Slowly, Nell was putting the pieces of everything in the palace back together. She’d stabilized the fighting, found evidence to condemn more than one person, and had thus far prevented any assassination attempts. She was feeling rather confident in herself.

          That is, until Grand Duchess Florianne and her followers opened a fucking rift in the courtyard, as if anything could make this ridiculous party worse. Nell sighed in exasperation and raised her left hand. Florianne couldn’t outdo her that easily.

          When the rift was closed and Tirnella was able to drag all the evidence and secrets she’d collected into light, she felt the rush of satisfaction and relief as the Inquisition had its first massive success. With the Empress practically gushing her approval for Nell and the Inquisition, and an Orlesian civil war narrowly avoided, Nell finally felt able to rest for a moment.

          She leaned against the balcony outside the ballroom with a heavy sigh, looking up at the glittering stars above her. The music had picked back up again and Nell almost laughed at the absurdity of the nobles resuming their party immediately after so much political upheaval. Footsteps behind her made her jump.

          “There you are,” Cullen said, coming to her side. “Everyone has been looking for you. Things have calmed down for the moment, are you alright?”

          “I’m just worn out,” Nell said. He rested his hand on her forearm. “Tonight has been very long.”

          “For all of us,” Cullen agreed. “I’m glad it’s over. I know it’s foolish, but I was worried for you tonight.” Nell smiled tiredly, leaning her head on his shoulder. The music swelled and Cullen stepped back, bending into a bow and extending his hand to her.  “I may never get another chance like this – I have to ask… May I have this dance, My Lady?” Nell laughed.

          “I thought you didn’t dance,” she said, though she didn’t hesitate to take his hand. He pulled her against him, one hand on the small of her back. He touched his forehead to hers, a shy smile on his lips.

          “For you, I’ll try,” he murmured. Nell’s heart fluttered both with nervousness and affection. She, truthfully, was probably more clueless about dancing than he was. She hadn’t danced in over ten years. The music began and they started the first step hesitantly. The sarcastic comment Nell had been preparing to mask her nerves died instantly in her throat as she looked into his warm, amber eyes, so sincere and full of adoration. Instead, her cheeks flushed and she turned her head away, biting the corners of her mouth to hide her embarrassed smile. Cullen cupped her cheek and gently urged her to face him. He was frowning. “Do not deny me your smile.” Her grin widened and her steps grew more sure.

          They danced in silence for a minute longer, Cullen rubbing small circles against her back with his thumb. He pressed a soft kiss against the side of her head.

          “You were extraordinary tonight, Nell,” he whispered. “I know it was difficult, but you never showed it. You were as graceful as ever. I’m very proud of you.” Nell lifted her head to look at him, the corners of her mouth sneaking upward into a smile. She felt a sudden rush of very intense feelings, ones she didn’t quite have a word for yet, but it made the corners of her eyes sting and she sprang forward to kiss him. In his surprise, he stuttered in his dancing before stopping entirely to wrap his arms around her waist and lift her to him. She grinned against his mouth. He held her steadfast, his arms tightening around her. Then suddenly, he pulled away, eyebrows furrowed. Gently, he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

          “What’s wrong?” Nell asked a little breathlessly. Cullen shook his head.

          “It’s just… you could have…” he sighed. “I hated standing there all night, watching you in danger. I couldn’t do anything to protect you, I just had to wait and pray you weren’t hurt. Every time you came through the doors and back into the ballroom I wanted to run to you, but I couldn’t – I had to stay at my post.” She pressed her forehead against his, her fingers clasped behind his neck.

“You worry too much, my sweet,” she said softly. Cullen sighed again and closed his eyes, his hands on her hips instinctively pulling her closer.

          _Tell her you love her, Rutherford._ Cullen’s stomach twisted again as his nerves resurfaced. He loved her, Maker, he did. He had known for a while, but he’d refrained from saying it. He was too afraid, too uncertain, too… himself. Surely, a woman like her couldn’t _love_ a man like him, and they’d only made their feelings known a little over a month ago. She’d think it was too soon, he was positive. She cared for him, he trusted that, but he couldn’t escape the feeling his feelings ran far deeper than hers. Still, as he held her in his arms, her familiar scent of wildflowers filling his nose, he felt a surge of courage.

          “Nell, I-”

          He was interrupted by a shocked gasp from the doorway. He and Nell sprang apart, cheeks reddening. Standing by the large balcony doors was one of the Orlesian women that had been circling Cullen like a vulture all night. Her eyes were wide in surprise, but her mouth twisted in a wicked smile. She spun on her heel and dashed back into the party. Cullen groaned loudly, rubbing his face with his gloved hands.

          “Andraste preserve me,” he muttered. Nell grabbed the collar of his jacket and yanked him to her with surprising force.

          “Cullen, we have about two minutes before all of Orlais knows about the Commander and the Inquisitor kissing on the balcony, so use these last two minutes to _really_ give them something to talk about.” Cullen’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing in want. He put his hands on her hips and lifted her, placing her on the railing of the balcony and taking his place between her knees. She giggled. “Utterly scandalous,” she hissed. Cullen growled before kissing her again.

          “I am a committed man. I do nothing halfway,” he muttered before kissing her. She moaned softly, causing him to tighten his grip on her hips as he fought to control his desire for her.

          It wasn’t long before Josephine arrived and tugged them both back inside, a polite smile on her face as she gently reminded them that she could have Sera fill both of their beds with bees unless they swore to remain professional for the rest of the evening. They nodded solemnly and apologized, but Josephine kept a sharp eye on the both of them for the remainder of the evening. To her surprise and pleasure, the Commander and the Inquisitor kept their hands off of each other long enough for the Inquisition to gracefully excuse themselves from the Winter Palace and make their way back to their chateau for the night. Everyone knew they’d begin their travel again early in the morning, and eagerness for rest was palpable.

          Once the chateau had quieted, Nell crept down the hall to Cullen’s room, where she slept beside him until he shook her awake at dawn. He had decided to keep his confession to himself a little while longer, not wanting to potentially damage the relationship he did have with her. Though she’d only known of his feelings for a month, Cullen had cared for her for the better part of a year, and loving Tirnella was the most natural thing he’d ever done. He doubted he could stop himself from telling her much longer, Maker knows he loses his ability to think every time she smiled.

          By the time the sun appeared in the sky, the Inquisition was making its way out of Orlais and back to Skyhold. Cullen felt a headache prickling behind his eyes and he felt more irritable than normal. He rode near Nell, but did not speak to her for most of the journey. She watching him often, and though he felt her gaze on him, he would not look at her. He watched his hands as they started to shake, and he felt afraid.


	14. The Inquisitor and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen reaches his breaking point, and Tirnella isn't home to help. Perhaps the Inquisition has become too much, but maybe a certain mage can change his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: PTSD/trauma. Mention of addiction. Depiction of withdrawal/relapse. Suicidal thoughts.

          After the Winter Palace, Nell left immediately for the Western Approach again, hardly even staying in Skyhold long enough to sleep. Cullen always missed her so much when she left, but this time it was worse. He’d felt the snaking tendrils of withdrawal plaguing him even before they left the palace, but he kept his pains quiet. Something in the Winter Palace had tipped him over the edge, and it felt like the first week all over again, his progress ruined. It was becoming increasingly hard to hide his symptoms from Nell, who was ever vigilant and endlessly caring. When the Inquisition made its way out of Orlais and into Skyhold, his hands began to shake, his head ached like he’d never felt before, and Maker help him, he wanted Lyrium. Two weeks after he’d reached Skyhold, he wanted to die.

          The blue liquid – it called to him – and he couldn’t stop the song no matter how loud he screamed. He clawed at his own skin, trying to stop it from burning, but he was on fire and he couldn’t keep the pain from devouring him. He avoided sleep entirely, choosing instead to lock himself away in his office. Varric and Cassandra came by often, but he turned them away with anger. Eventually they stopped trying. He screamed again, knocking everything off of his desk, ripping books off of shelves, breaking the legs off of his chair. The armor, however, he kept pristine. He was fighting demons from his past and he would not do so without protection. He’d become a shell of a man, a withered skeleton, weeping for a drug he didn’t want, encased in cold metal. He collapsed on the floor, tearing at his own hair, sweat dripping down his back, making him shiver. He couldn’t keep doing this.

          The lyrium kit was hidden behind a book he never opened – hidden from Cassandra, from his friends, even from Nell. She had no idea he’d kept any. On the worst nights, he would pull it from the shelf and stare at its contents. He would grip the edge of the desk until his arms trembled and he would scowl at the little blue vial that controlled his every waking thought and made him want to vomit at every turn. Once, he brought the vial all the way to his lips. He could practically taste it, but something made him lower his shaking hand and place the vial back in its container.

          Nell was usually there. He never told her when it was a bad night, but he had a feeling she knew anyway, because she would always hold him a little tighter, brushing her lips across the cold, clammy skin of his forehead, whispering sweet things. But tonight she was miles away and he was losing control.

          He wept. He had failed her and he knew it. This woman had given her soul to the Inquisition, to him, and he couldn’t stop staring at the fucking lyrium kit praying the Maker would kill him so he didn’t have to choose, because he knew if it was up to him he’d choose lyrium. Briefly, he eyed the daggers stuck in the practice dummy beside his desk. _Maker help me, it would be so easy._ He traced his fingers lightly over the little vial, wanting so badly to taste the power it would give him. Oh, it would steady his hands, empty his mind. He couldn’t be tortured by demons he didn’t remember.

          _Nell will never forgive you._

          In the end, he tucked the kit back into the shelf, the lyrium untouched. He surrendered willingly, crawling into his bed, face wet from sweat and tears. He clutched the pillow – it still smelled like her – and wished he could have been the man she deserved.

          He was almost asleep when he felt the mattress dip down and Nell slid in beside him, her arm wrapping around his waist. He knew she was due any day from the Approach, he only wished she’d returned after he’d resigned. He bit his lip, trying to keep his eyes dry as she snuggled up against him, humming sleepily. He waited until he was sure she was asleep before he looked at her. She was tired, he could see the circles under her eyes. Her hair was haloed her face and he brushed some off of her forehead to place a trembling kiss there. She didn’t stir.

          “Forgive me, Nell, I never wanted this for you,” he said in a choked whisper, tears spilling over and down his cheeks.

          She sighed in her sleep and rolled to face the other way, but she kept her back pressed against his chest.

          Andraste forgive him, if this was his last night with her he wanted to use it well. He resisted sleep until dawn, watching Nell breath in and out. He memorized the freckles on her cheeks and the curve of her nose – he’d never forget them as long as he lived. He ran his finger down the edge of her cheek and over her bottom lip. Maker, how he loved her lips. He kissed her cheek one last time before leaving her in his bed. Cassandra would be awake by now, she was nearly as much of an insomniac as he. He dressed himself in his full armor and headed for the training dummies he knew she liked to abuse in the mornings. It wouldn’t be long before Nell woke alone, and his head was throbbing.

 

          Nell awoke early in the morning, earlier than she expected after a night of hard travel. Cullen’s loft was freezing, he toes were numb and she swore she could see her breath. With a whine she reached for him, longing for his normally warm skin on hers. She grasped cold sheets. With a lurch in her stomach, she sat up, looking around his loft and listening carefully for movement below. His office was silent. 

          He would never be up and gone this early, not the morning after she returned from a mission. She swallowed her fear and tugged her boots back on, shoving her arms roughly into her coat. She dropped down the ladder and scanned the room.

          “Oh, fuck,” she breathed. His office was a wreck. She hadn’t noticed in the dark when she arrived. His desk was barren, with its contents covering the floor beside it. His book shelf was mostly empty, with books littering the floor, some torn. Even his chair was broken. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest. She flew down the stairs looking frantically for any sign of him. A nearby soldier spotted her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

          “Forgive me, Your Worship, but if you’re after Commander Cullen, he went to see Lady Cassandra. I believe they went to the armory.”

          Nell mumbled some form of thanks and practically ran to where the boy had directed. She found Cullen and Cassandra inside, both of the warrior’s faces set like stone.

          “You asked for my opinion and I have given it. Why would you expect it to change?” Cassandra snapped, arms crossed. Cullen growled, pacing in front of her.

          “I expect you to keep your word! It’s relentless, I can’t-”

          “You give yourself too little credit!”

          “If I’m unable to fulfill what vows I kept then nothing good has come of this! Would you rather save face than admit-” His eyes fell on Tirnella and his shoulders slumped. Cassandra’s gaze flickered between the pair of them. He made his way to the door, head bowed, and he paused briefly beside Nell. “Forgive me,” he whispered to her, not meeting her eyes.

          “And people say I’m stubborn – this is ridiculous!” Cassandra shouted at Cullen’s back. The door slammed behind Cullen. Cassandra turned to Nell. “Cullen told you he is no longer taking Lyrium?”

          “Yes, and I respect his decision,” Nell replied evenly.

          “As do I, not that he’s willing to listen. Cullen has asked that I recommend a replacement for him. I refused. It’s not necessary. Besides, it would destroy him. He’s come so far.”

          Nell’s stomach clenched in fear. “Why didn’t he come to me?”

          “We had an agreement long before you joined us. As a Seeker, I could evaluate the dangers,” she said. “And he wouldn’t want to… risk your disappointment,” she added carefully. Nell bit her lip, taking steady breaths.

          “Is there anything we can do to change his mind?”

          “If anyone could, it’s you. Mages have made their suffering known, but Templars never have. They are bound to the order, mind and soul, with someone always holding the Lyrium leash. Cullen has a chance to break that leash – to prove to himself and anyone who would follow suit that it’s possible. He can do this, I knew that when we met in Kirkwall. Talk to him, decide if now is the time.”

          Nell tore across the courtyard to Cullen’s tower, taking the steps two at a time. She threw open the door just as something came crashing into it, shattering just beside her head. She looked down at the broken remains of a lyrium kit, the blue liquid trickling over the smooth stone floor.

          “Maker’s breath! I didn’t hear you enter!” Cullen cried. “I-I… forgive me.”

          She took a step toward the desk, pushing the door shut behind her. “Cullen, if you need to talk-”

          “You don’t have to-” He stumbled, groaning in pain as he caught himself on the edge of the desk. Nell reached for him, but he waved her away. “I never meant for this to interfere.”

          “I believe you,” Nell said softly.

          “For whatever good it does, promises mean nothing if I cannot keep them. You asked what happened to Ferelden’s Cirlce – it was taken over my abominations. The Templars – my friends – were slaughtered! I… I was tortured. They tried to break my mind and I – how can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall and I trusted my Knight Commander and for what? Hmm? Her fear of Mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. Can’t you see why I want _nothing_ to do with that life?”

          “Of course I can, I-”

          “Don’t! You should be questioning what I’ve done!” he snapped. Nell sighed, crossing her arms. He paced in front of her, wringing his hands. His eyes were blown wide with rage and shame and he seemed to be addressing himself more than her. “I thought this would be better, that I would regain some control over my life, but these thoughts won’t leave me. How many lives depend on our success? I _swore_ myself to this cause! I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry! I should be taking it!” He slammed his fist into what little books remained on the shelf, making Nell wince. “I should be taking it,” he whispered, slumping against the shelf, closing his eyes. Nell came to his side, running her hands through his hair. He flinched, but did not push her away.

          “This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition,” she said, taking his face in her hands. “Is this what you want?” He looked at her helplessly, eyes blood shot and misty. He sighed.

          “No,” he breathed. “But these memories have always haunted me… If they become worse, if I cannot endure this-”

          She placed a hand on his breastplate. “You can.” He took her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss her fingers.

          “Alright,” he mumbled. He stood still for a moment, his lip still pressed to her hand, taking steadying breaths. He sighed before letting go of her. “Nell, I think you should go. I need… time. I need to clean this mess up. You’ve endured enough of this for a day.” Nell took his hands in hers.

          “Cullen, if you truly don’t want me to stay, I won’t, but I would like to. Please, let me care for you. You are not a burden.”

          He drew her into his arms, tucking her under his chin and running his fingers down her spine. He heard her sniffling and he pulled back and took her face between his gloved hands. She had fresh tears running down her cheeks and he kissed her softly.

          “I didn’t want you to worry,” he mumbled.

          “It isn’t even that, I just wish I could do something to make this easier for you. Cullen, if I could take your pain away and make it mine, I would,” she said. Cullen shook his head and kissed her again.

          “I told you, whatever the suffering, I accept it. If this is the price I pay for my freedom from the Order, than I gladly pay it. I have many sins to atone for, Nell, and this is how I do that.”

          “Can’t I stay with you?” she asked again.

          “Oh, Tirnella, my heart, I’m afraid not. You have work to do, and I need to fix the mess I made here last night. Just give me a few hours to sort my thoughts out, please. This evening, if I’m feeling better, I’m yours,” he said. Nell pouted a little, but she understood. She squeezed his hands and lifted herself on the balls of her feet to kiss his jaw.

          “Come find me when you’re ready, my brave solider,” Nell said quietly. Cullen rolled his eyes.

          “Maker, don’t ever let Varric hear what you just said, he’ll have everyone in Skyhold addressing me like that,” Cullen groaned. Nell went to the door, but her hand lingered in his as long as possible. Just as they were about to separate, she turned back to him.

          “Why did you hide this from me?” she asked suddenly. Cullen sighed and rubbed his neck.

          “I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared of what you would think of me once you saw what I really was.” Nell crossed her arms.

          “What you really are? A man struggling? You’re doing something no one has ever even attempted. I’d be amazed if you were doing any better than this. I’m already so proud of how far you’ve come.” She walked toward him and took his hands. “Cullen, I’m with you, always. You cannot frighten me away. Don’t waste your worries on things you make in your head. You and I will fight the real battle together, alright? I will not let this beat you.”

          Once again, his face melted in adoration and he bent down to kiss her. “You mean the world to me, Tirnella.”

          “You mean the same to me, now start believing it.”

 

 

          To Nell’s relief, around dinner time, Cullen’s familiar footsteps came up Nell’s staircase. She lifted her eyes from the book she’d been reading and smiled at him, motioning for the other end of the couch. He joined her, letting her rest her feet in his lap as she normally did. He was wearing a red tunic with gold thread, giving him a rather princely appearance. But beneath the tunic, he looked sickly. He was thinner, his eyes darker, his face waxy and tired. Nell felt a surge of terror as her eyes raked over his features, seeing for the first time just how deeply his addiction ran. She set her book aside and crawled forward, straddling his lap. She cupped his chin and tilted his face up. He sighed.

          “I know, I don’t look well, even I’ve noticed,” he muttered. “I feel so weak, Tirnella.”

          “Cullen, in all the time I was gone, all that pain you were in, would lyrium have stopped it?” she asked. He swallowed and nodded.

          “Yes, it would have.”

          “You knew this?”

          “Of course.”

          “Did you take it?”

          “I don’t understand.”

          “Did you take it, Cullen?”       

          “No, of course I didn’t.”

          “So, what I’m hearing is that you endured unimaginable pain, suffered for weeks, yet never took the one thing that could make you feel better?” she asked, running her fingertip along the edge of his jaw. He gaped at her for a moment before his mouth opened slowly. He nodded. “Then forgive me, but I can’t see how in the hell that’s weakness. Do you realize how remarkable that is? Cullen, you aren’t defined by your struggles, only how you face them.”

          He did not answer, he only tugged her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck, taking long, steady breaths.

          When he lifted his head again, his misty eyes fixed on hers – he looked at her like some people looked at statues of Andraste, like she was salvation, and for the first time in a while, she didn’t mind being needed.

          He declined her invitation to stay with her that night, which made her sad, but she knew pushing him would not help. She slept a little restlessly, but when she woke, there was a fresh bouquet of crystal grace on her desk, which he must have picked from Skyhold’s garden. She smiled at the image of Cullen on his knees in the dirt, picking flowers for her, but decided not to tease him, just this once – though she did kiss him longer than usual when she stopped by his office before he went to run drills with the soldiers, which made him blush an adorable crimson.


	15. Wishing We Were Somewhere Else?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Nell go on a day trip, Cole does not enjoy his time in the Emerald Graves, and Tirnella and Cullen find a new use for Cullen's desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: NSFW. Explicit depiction of sexual content. Depictions of gore. Major character injury. PTSD/torture/scars.

          Nell kept a close watch on Cullen for the next few weeks, happily noting his complexion had a healthy color again, and his eyes seemed brighter and more alert. He laughed more often, which made Nell feel relieved. They played chess in the garden on sunny days, and huddled by the fire reading on the days Skyhold was blanketed with snow or rain. On busy days, when Nell hardly had time to breathe, Cullen would leave flowers on her desk, or small notes for her to find in her pockets. Though he could be quite vocal about his feelings, Nell noticed he often preferred his affection be revealed with subtlety and shyness.

          Nearly another month after the Winter Palace, after a particularly long meeting with her advisors, Nell found herself wandering the battlements of Skyhold, squinting at the bright snow of mountaintops and the blue of the sky. After almost an hour of wandering, she was interrupted by Cullen, who had been passing. He stopped, a little breathless.

          “Oh, there you are!” he exclaimed. Nell smiled.

          “Were you looking for me?” she asked.

          “Yes – I mean no!” he shouted, suddenly looking nervous. Nell raised an eyebrow.

          “I can come by later if you’d prefer,” she suggested. Cullen reached for her hand.

          “No, please stay,” he said gently. They stepped aside as a soldier passed by, who was trying very hard to keep his eyes anywhere but the Commander and the Inquisitor. Cullen stepped closer. “We’ve have some dealings in Ferelden, I was hoping you might accompany me. When you could spare the time, of course.”

          “Is something wrong?” Nell asked.

          “What? No! I would rather explain there, if – if you wish to go.”

          “I believe I have time now, if you’d like. We can leave whenever you wish,” Nell said. Cullen sighed, a little relieved, before leaning over to kiss Nell’s cheek.

          “I’ll make the necessary arrangements,” he promised before sweeping past her and down a staircase to the courtyard.

         

          Cullen wasted no time in preparing for the journey, having readied the supplies and plans by the next morning. Nell could tell he was eager, but about what, she had no idea.

          As they traveled on, getting farther into Ferelden, she realized they were nearing Honnleath, where Cullen grew up. She eyes him suspiciously as they continued on past the town and into the woods. He only smiled at her.

          The Inquisition members made camp near a lake, the soldiers got a fire started and began preparing food. Cullen and Nell tied off their horses and Cullen took Nell’s hand, leading her into the trees towards the lake. They walked for several minutes in the quiet, their boots sinking a little in the damp earth. It was relatively cold, and Nell walked close to Cullen.

          “Where are you taking me?” she asked. As he’d done all the other times she’d asked, he chuckled.

          “You will see, be patient,” he repeated. Nell grumbled.

          After about ten minutes of walking they reached an old dock extending out into the lake about ten feet. Cullen led her down it to the edge, perched above the glittering blue water. Cullen leaned on the post at the end of the dock.

          “You walk into danger every day, I wanted to take you away from it, if only for a moment. I grew up not far from here, this place was always quiet,” Cullen said softly. His face was gentle and just a little bit sad. His eyes wandered across the water. Nell leaned on the post opposite.

          “Did you come here often?” she asked, watching his expression carefully.

          “I loved my siblings,” he sighed. “But they were very loud. I would come here to clear my head – of course, they always found me eventually.”

          He chuckled fondly, but his features turned pained for only a moment.

          “You were happy here,” Nell said. He nodded.

          “I was,” he agreed, before shifting his eyes to her. “I still am.” He cleared his throat and looked back out to the lake. “The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training. My brother gave me this –” he took a small silver coin from his pocket, “– it just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck. Templars are not supposed to carry such things, our ‘faith’ should see us through.”

          “You broke the order’s rules? I’m shocked!” Nell teased. Cullen rolled his eyes and put his palm firmly on her lower back, pulling her closer.

          “Until a year ago, I was very good at following them… most of the time. This was the only thing I took from Ferelden that the Templars didn’t give me.” He paused and took her hand, pressing the coin against her palm. “Humor me, we don’t know what you’ll face before the end… this can’t hurt.”

          Nell’s mouth fell open in surprise as she stared at the coin in her hand. Cullen’s only worldly possession – the only thing that truly belonged to him – and he wanted her to have it. She almost refused, feeling completely undeserving of his most treasured item, but when he nodded, his eyes filled with a sincerity she knew all too well, she closed her fingers around the coin and his hand.

          “I’ll keep it safe,” she promised. Cullen smiled, taking her face in his hands.

          “Good,” he breathed. “I know it’s foolish, but I’m glad.”

          He kissed her softly, lips brushing hers with a slowness that made her want to collapse against him. After a moment, his tongue traced her lower lip experimentally, and when she softened under his touch, he knew he could press farther. With a soft sigh, he pulled her closer. He broke the embrace before it was anything more than tender and stepped back.

          “We ought to be heading back, they’ll be looking for us soon,” he said. Nell smiled mischievously.

          “Actually, Commander, I was going to propose a different idea,” she said. Cullen raised his eyebrows.

          “Do tell.”

          “Swim with me.”

          “In this lake? You’ll freeze!”

          “Coward.”

          “Don’t test me, Tirnella, I’m a Ferelden at heart, you cannot best me,” Cullen said seriously.

          “Then take off that armor and get in the water, Chantry Boy.”

          As always, breaking Cullen’s will was easy with a little teasing. With a frustrated growl, he tore at the buckles of his armor, tossing the pieces to the dock. When he was down to his small clothes and a tunic, Tirnella put her hands on the center of his chest and shoved him hard. He hit the water with a great splash and a very colorful curse. When he resurfaced, he was glowering. He gripped the end of the dock, glaring up at her.

          “You know, I was going to sleep in this tunic,” he grumbled. Nell laughed loudly.

          “You were taking too long!” she replied, lifting her own tunic over her head. Even though she hadn’t shed her smallclothes and breastband, Cullen averted his gaze. She knelt at the edge of the dock and placed a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t be embarrassed, I’m yours to look at.”

          His shy grin was quickly replaced with a crooked smirk. In a flash, his hands closed around her wrists and he tugged her over the edge and into the water. She squealed when the icy water met her skin. She came up to the surface and splashed water at Cullen. He laughed and dodged her attacks smugly. She lurched forward and slung her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist. His hands drifted down her spine and came to a rest at the small of her back. They drifted apart eventually, swimming lazily. The sky began to darken and they heard voices nearby, searching for them. Inquisition soldiers appeared at the edge of the trees. Nell held a finger to her lips and motioned for Cullen to follow to the dock. They hid underneath the creaking, damp wood, listening as the footsteps came towards the end. Nell giggled and Cullen clamped a hand over her mouth, holding her to his chest.

          “Well it looks like they were here at some point,” a soldier said, pausing nearly above Nell’s head.

          “They left their clothes here, should we be worried? Should we keep looking?” another asked. The first one laughed.

          “Listen, wherever Commander Cullen is, he’s with the Inquisitor, and she hasn’t got on her clothes. Believe me, anyone in their right mind would not wish to be found. Let’s head back to camp, they’ll return when they’re… finished.”

          The footsteps retreated and Cullen’s eyes were wide in surprise.

          “Maker’s breath, I need to have a word with my men about spreading rumors,” he muttered. Nell laughed, pressing her lips to his.

          “Evidently you are not the only man in Skyhold who thinks I’m attractive,” she said. Cullen stared at her, a little disbelieving.

          “If you haven’t noticed the way some of my men leer at you, then you surely haven’t been paying attention,” he grumbled.

          “Come on, grumpy, we should get out before we freeze,” Nell said, a shy smile on her face.

          Cullen, still dripping in his soaked tunic, led Nell back to camp, his hand in hers. When they made their way out of the tree line, a few of the Inquisition soldiers eyed them suspiciously, but Cullen never loosened his grip from hers. Nell raised her eyebrows at him but he pretended not to see her.

          The dealings Cullen mentioned in Ferelden only kept them two nights. Cullen and Nell didn’t dare go into each other’s tents in such a small camp, it would surely be noticed, and despite how aware Cullen’s men seemed to be, and despite Cullen’s display of possessive pride earlier, professionalism was still somewhat important. Nell found she did not sleep as well without Cullen’s warm body beside hers at night. She didn’t remember her blankets being this cold.

          When they returned to Skyhold, she was glad for the privacy of her own quarters again, where Cullen could stay as long as he wanted without sparking too much gossip. Shortly after their return, Cullen was staying in Nell’s quarters when he awoke to the sound of her crying, and he instantly sat up in bed. She was still asleep, clearly having a nightmare. She thrashed and cried, her ragged breathing punctuated with a name. His name. He reached for her, touching her cheeks softly.

          “Nell, wake up,” he said gently. “Nell, love, you need to wake up. You’re safe here, everything is alright.”

          With a gasp, she lurched awake, hands flying to his face. She looked at him for a minute, her bleary eyes wide with fear. Her chest rose and fell with a startling speed and Cullen could feel the slight tremble of her hands as she stared at him. He waited quietly for her to speak.

          “C-Cullen?” she choked.

          “I’m right here, sweetheart. I never left.”

          Her face twisted in pain and she began to sob, clutching his shoulders almost too tight to be comfortable. He drew her against his chest, tucking her messy red hair beneath his chin as he held her. With a surprisingly strong grip, she tugged at the front of his shirt. “Nell, would you like to tell me about it?” he whispered.

          “You gave up. You gave up and the lyrium destroyed you. You were alive but it wasn’t you anymore – just some addict begging on the streets,” she said in a hoarse voice. Cullen swallowed hard and instinctively kissed the side of her head, trying his best to show her he was still with her. Suddenly, she pulled free of his hands and turned to face him, cupping his cheeks in her shaking hands. “Cullen Rutherford, don’t you dare give up on yourself, I will not allow it. Please, Cullen, I know you can do this.”

          He kissed the inside of both of her wrists and pulled her gently to him again. Ever so softly, he lowered her back to her pillow and pulled the blanket up over her. He pushed the hair out of her face and looked at her for a long while.

          “I’m never taking it again, Tirnella. You have my word,” he said. She whimpered slightly and scooted closer to him.

          “Don’t leave me,” she whispered against his chest. He trailed his fingers down her spine, coming to a rest at the small of her back.

          “Maker, Nell, you know I won’t,” he said. “Go back to sleep, my dear, I’ll be here with you when you wake up.”

          Nell kissed under his collar bone and closed her eyes. Cullen, true to his word, held her to his chest while she slept until the sun rose and she opened her blue eyes again. With a small groan, she rolled onto her back.

          “Good morning, Nell,” Cullen said quietly. Her head turned back to face him and she smiled sleepily.

          “You stayed,” she mumbled.

          “I stayed,” he replied, kissing her shoulder softly. “And since you’re awake, I’d like to talk to you about something, if you’re feeling up to it.”

          “Is something wrong?” she asked. Cullen shook his head.

          “No, I have a personal favor to ask of you. I have a lead on Corypheus’ general, Samson, and-”

          “Cullen, in this bed, I’m not the Inquisitor. If you want to talk business, we do it at my desk,” she said, rolling out of bed and slipping her silk robe over her shoulders. Cullen followed her to the desk, waiting patiently as she sat behind it.

          “Corypheus has employed an ex-Templar named Samson as his main general. I knew Samson, he was expelled from the order and left to be a beggar on the streets after he gave everything up for lyrium. The man was once kind, but I imagine now he’s a twisted shell of the man he use to be. I’ve no doubt Corypheus has him as infected with Red Lyrium as the others.”

          “And he is of particular interest to you because you knew him?” Nell asked carefully. Cullen sighed.

          “I knew him, I know how dangerous he could be. There are smuggling caravans heading through the Emerald Graves now carrying Red Lyrium. If you intercept them, you could gain vital information to defeating Samson and depriving Corypheus of a general. I can give you maps and any information you need, I just need your approval, Inquisitor.” He stressed her title, giving her a stern, Commander face. The corners of her mouth twitched at how difficult it was for him to approach her merely as an advisor. She leaned back in her chair.

          “Let me make this clear, you’re personally asking me to go on a dangerous mission to ambush a Red Templar caravan?” she asked. He sighed deeply, his brow furrowing.

          “Three Red Templar caravans,” he muttered. Nell opened her mouth to speak but Cullen held his hand up to stop her. “Please, don’t tease me. I’ve agonized over asking you to do this, you of all people know I’d rather you not go on this mission. I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think it was absolutely vital to the Inquisition, and while your safety comes before anything else, this time I know what must be done. I’m begging you, Nell, be my leader right now, please.”

          Nell straightened her back and folded her hands in front of her on the desk.

          “Very well, Commander. I see what you’ve brought me is important, I’ll see to it immediately. Prepare a report with everything I’ll need to know before I leave, I’ll set out at your earliest convenience,” she said calmly. Cullen nodded.

          “Thank you, Inquisitor,” he replied. For a moment, they were still, watching each other expectantly. Finally, Cullen smirked.

          “How did I do?” she asked.

          “It could use some improvement, but you’ll do,” he quipped. “Forgive my shortness, I appreciate you doing this for me.” Nell leaned over the desk and pulled him in for a kiss.

          “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

 

 

_Cullen-_

_I figured you’d like an update, considering your personal investment in this mission. We’ve reached the Emerald Graves… Maker, it’s stunning here. Everything is, well, emerald green. Solas keeps babbling about Elven history, and it stopped being interesting a few hours ago. Cole is as misty and bizarre as ever, he keeps telling Bull the rock paintings are ‘speaking to him’._

          _Also, I feel due to the nature of our relationship now you deserve to know we took on a dragon this morning. I know you’re probably upset, but you needn’t worry – no one is hurt. The thing was between us and our next destination, it couldn’t be avoided._

_We’ve found two of the three caravans and they all had secret documents and letters I think you’ll find very useful. We should finish this mission by tomorrow and be back in Skyhold before you can say, “Varric’s chest hair.”_

_At the risk of sounding ridiculous, I miss you. Very much. Stay safe for me._

_Nell_

          The first two caravans had been taken easily, and the dragon fight went smoother than any fight before. Nell was practically glowing with the joy of success and a location that didn’t have miserable weather for the first time ever. The Emerald Graves remained comfortably cool and dry, with sunshine streaming through green leaves almost always.

          Unfortunately, their good luck seemed to run out by the time they encountered the third caravan.

          Red Templars were swarming it like bugs, giving off the eeriest red glow. Among them were demonic looking creatures that seemed to be made almost entirely out of red lyrium. Nell’s skin crawled watching them move. Despite feeling a violent urge to run all the way back to Skyhold, she gripped her staff tighter and called her party forward.

          Bull, Solas, Nell, and Cole worked efficiently, killing Red Templars off relatively easily. The creatures proved to be more difficult, but they could be killed, Nell discovered that when she froze one solid and watched Iron Bull cleave it completely in half.

          She did not, however, see the final Red Templar as it crept up behind her, sword at its side, red with blood. She didn’t notice until his sword was in the air, ready to strike. She didn’t notice Cole running from the side until he’d pushed her out of the way. She hit the rocks with surprising speed, splitting the skin on the side of her head. Red blood dripped down her neck and shoulder, uncomfortably hot, and her vision went white on the edges. The last thing she noticed was the knife protruding from Cole’s belly, blood dripping from the end, and Iron Bull putting an axe in the Red Templar’s head with a roar.

 

 

          Not for the first time, she awoke will Bull sitting beside her, looking miserable. He smiled halfheartedly when he saw her.

          “Glad you’re awake, Boss. How’s the head?” he asked. Nell sat up suddenly.

          “Forget about my head, where is Cole?” she hissed. Bull sighed.

          “Kid’s asleep by the fire. Solas and the other scouts are trying to keep him warm. Things don’t look good, Boss. He was bleeding real bad and we barely got to camp in time. Solas has him under a sleep spell that should keep his heart slow and steady, it bought us more time, but not much. He needs a healer.”

          Nell rose to her feet unsteadily, balancing herself by grabbing onto Bull’s shoulder. “We need to get him to Skyhold, now. Get a horse, we have to move quickly.”

          Nell barked ordered to Inquisition scouts at the camp, who helped her onto her horse and handed her pack to her. In no time, Nell and her party were speeding out of the Emerald Graves with an unconscious Cole, who was on a cart being pulled by Iron Bull’s horse. Nell’s head was buzzing but she kept her eyes on the path ahead of her. The only thought occupying her mind was getting Cole home safely.

          They stopped at Inquisition camps along the way and switched mounts so they could ride without stopping. Nell scrawled a hasty note to her advisors warning them of Cole’s condition and sent it off with a raven. She prayed it would reach them in time to prepare.

          Solas checked Cole often, using more healing magic than Nell had ever seen in her life. Cole squirmed in his sleep but the spell held fast. He was making forward progress, finally stabilized enough by magic to remove the immediate danger of death. Solas assured Nell Cole would be able to walk on his own when they reached Skyhold, and he would only need rest and patience to recover. This eased her guilt slightly, but not enough.

Finally, mercifully, Skyhold appeared on the horizon, just before dawn. Alarm bells sounded as soon as the party was spotted, and soldiers ran forward to collect Cole. Gingerly, they helped him down from the cart and made their way for the infirmary, the healers already waiting for them at the door.

          Nell heaved a great sigh and wobbled to her quarters, feeling incredibly tired without the pressure of Cole’s life weighing on her any longer. She slogged up the steps as quickly as she could manage. She tossed her pack to the floor and kicked off her shoes. Her cat leapt from her bed with a yowl and rubbed his orange body against her ankles. She patted his head, glad to see he was still well fed. Suddenly, the door at the bottom of the stairs swung open and Nell heard a familiar pair of boots rushing up the stone steps.

          Cullen appeared, his hair ruffled from sleeping and his boots only half tied. He dashed forward, scooping her into his arms, crushing her against his chest. She giggled, clutching on to his shoulders.

          “I missed you,” he breathed against her neck. “I missed you so much.” He set her down, but kept her just as close. She rested her head against his chest, fingers squeezing his arms softly.

          “Maker, I missed you too,” she said. He brushed her cheek with his calloused fingers.

          “I stopped to see Cole on the way here, he’s doing much better. I knew you’d want to know.” Nell raised her head to look at her impossibly sweet man, his warm eyes fixed on her as she pushed herself up on her toes to kiss him.

          “It’s so early, I didn’t want to wake you,” she said. Cullen chuckled.

          “Hush, I’m just glad you’re back. I can’t stay long, I have-”

          “Soldiers to train, I know, my sweet. I need to rest for a while anyway.” Cullen’s eyes widened.

          “Forgive me, Nell, I didn’t mean to keep you up.” He kissed her swiftly and gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Will you come see me tonight? I’ll finish my work early for you.” He sounded so eager, his boyish enthusiasm entirely too endearing. Nell smiled, brushing her lips against his cheek.

          “Absolutely, Commander.” He grinned, kissing her again before reluctantly making his way back down the stairs. Nell smiled to herself as she tugged off her clothes. No matter how badly she needed sleep, she needed a bath worse. She scrubbed off the thick layer of dust and sweat off in the bath before collapsing into bed. Though she fully intended to make good on her promise to Cullen, she ended up sleeping straight through the night and on until morning. She woke feeling quite guilty until she saw a single crystal grace flower on her desk, next to a sheet of parchment that read, “You drool when you sleep, I find it oddly endearing. You know where to find me when you wake. -Cullen.”

Feeling a warm flood of appreciation for Cullen, she sat at her desk to tackle the mountain of paperwork and reports that had built up since she left. She chuckled when she found a note from Scout Harding, simply reading, “Nothing to report, your Worship, just hoping you have a nice day!” She made a mental note to stop and talk with Harding when she had time to spare. She worked for most of the day, pausing only to eat a bit and check in with Dorian to get Skyhold’s latest gossip. Upon seeing her, he’d planted a kiss firmly on her cheek.

          “Stop leaving me behind, this place is dreadfully dull without you,” he whined. She rolled her eyes, but stayed a little while longer to keep him company, refusing to admit she missed him too. Finally, as the sun was dipping below the mountains, Nell decided it was late enough to drag Cullen away from his work, eager to see him after she slept through their meeting the night before. She took the long way, pausing to greet Blackwall as she headed past the stables.

Nell pushed open the door to Cullen’s office, her heart sinking when she saw the group of soldiers standing at attention in front of his desk. She figured he would still be caught up in something Inquisition related, but she was going to sulk about it anyway. Grumbling to herself, she leaned against the wall by the door, arms crossed. Cullen continued giving out his orders.

          “Rylen’s men will monitor the situation.”

          “Yes, Sir. We’ll begin preparations at once,” an eager scout replied. Cullen glanced at the report in his hands.

          “In the meantime, we’ll send soldiers to…” His voice trailed off as he noticed Nell. She smiled at him and he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching with incredible self control. “…assist with the relief effort. That will be all!”

          The soldiers must have seen their Commander’s shift in mood and shuffled out obediently without another word. Cullen followed them, shutting his office door behind them. He leaned against it, sighing. Nell went to his side, a sympathetic smile on her face.

          “Wishing we were somewhere else?” she asked, reaching out to touch his arm. Cullen chuckled.

          “I barely found time to get away before. This war won’t last forever. When it started, I hadn’t considered much beyond our survival. Things are…different now.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Nell cocked her head to the side.

          “What do you mean?”

          “I find myself wondering what will happen after. When this is over I won’t want to move on, not from you…” He brushed his fingertips against her cheek, but his expression turned uncertain and he pulled away, moving to shuffle some papers on his desk. “But I-I don’t know what you…that is if you, um…” Nell bit back a laugh. She took no offense in his reservations, she knew him well enough to know what worried him. With a gentle smile, she slid between him and the desk. He swallowed at how close they now were, with their noses almost touching.

          “Cullen, do you need to ask?” His face shifted from careful control to relief, then his features slowly softened into tender affection. He reached up to cup her cheek.

“Maker, Nell, I’ve never cared for another person as much as I care for you,” he whispered. Nell lifted her bottom over the edge of the desk and scooted back. Her arm bumped a half full wine bottle and it shattered on the floor. She gasped and looked back to him, cheeks reddening. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk and all at once, his eyes grew dark with desire. He leaned forward, sending everything off the surface of his desk in one enthusiastic sweep of his arm. Nell barely had time to react before his hands were on her waist, lifting her and pushing her onto her back. He climbed over her, pulling her against him for a kiss. She giggled and put her hand on the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss. Gloved fingers trailed down her hips, cupping her backside. He groaned when she rolled her hips up and brushed against the front of his pants. Breathlessly, he planted messy kisses against her neck and jaw. When her fingers dipped dangerously low on his abdomen, he pulled back.

“Are – are we going to…?” He swallowed hard, very clearly trying to steady his breathing. She clasped her hands behind his neck.

“I’ve waited months for this, you’d better not stop now,” she said, grinning. He made a low growl in the back of his throat and she began to undo the straps and buckles on his armor, tugging it off of him. He helped her, tossing the pieces to the floor, until he was only in a tunic and trousers. She pulled his gloves off of his hands and whispered, “I want to feel your hands when you to touch me.”

“You have no idea how much I want to touch you,” he whispered back. He pressed his fingers against the hard muscles of her stomach, his fingers inching up her shirt. Gently, slowly, he ran his fingers over the swell of her breast. She shivered slightly and reached for the laces on his breeches but he took her hands in his, bringing her fingers to his lips.

          “Wait, not here, not for your first time. You deserve more than this,” he said. She brushed his lips with her fingers.

“I have you, the rest doesn’t matter,” she said. But he shook his head and before she could protest again, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the ladder. She chuckled and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

“There is no way in the void you’re getting up that ladder with me, old man,” she teased. He rolled his eyes.

“I am not old,” he grunted. She placed a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose, but her lips were twisted in a crooked smirk.

“Have at it then, Commander.” He narrowed his eyes at her challenge but made no move to begin his climb. She giggled and kissed the soft skin of his neck.

          He let go of her legs with an annoyed sigh. “Unfortunately, my sweet, this part you have to do on your own.” Before her feet could even hit the floor, she was ascending the ladder. She reached the top and leaned over the hole, peering down at him, grinning.

          “Come on, Chantry Boy, keep up.”

          He growled and raced up after her. She had already managed to tug her boots off and it was only when she had him pressed against the wall, lips kissing every exposed section of flesh she could with a wicked smile on her face, Cullen felt a flash of panic.

S _he had never seen him without clothes on before, she’d never seen the scars._

Nell slid her fingertips under the hem of Cullen’s shirt and he instantly stopped her, his hands closing – probably too tightly – around her wrists. She stepped back, eyebrows knit together in confusion. Cullen sighed.

          “Nell, wait,” he said. “Before you do that-” She smirked.

          “Cullen, if it’s your body you’re concerned about, I assure you, you have the build of a-”

          “Nell, listen, please.” His jaw clenched nervously and Nell’s smile faded. She lifted her hand to cup his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned in to her touch. She brushed the arch of his cheekbone with her thumb, encouraging him to continue. “Before we continue, I needed to warn you…I have seen a great deal of violence during my years as a Templar.” He paused. “My skin bears…reminders.” She let out a quick breath and her eyes widened slightly, understanding hitting her all at once.

          “ _Oh,_ ” she breathed. “Scars? That’s what this is about?” He gritted his teeth and nodded. She swallowed a giggle. “Cullen, I’m _covered_ in scars. Why would that ever turn me away from you?”

          “No, you don’t understand-” She placed a hand on his chest.

          “Why don’t you show me,” she suggested softly. For a long minute, he only stared at her, clearly thinking hard. She could practically feel him worrying – waves of tension rolling off of his shoulders. Slowly, she reached for the hem of his shirt again. “May I?” He looked at her for a long time before sighing and closing his eyes. He nodded. With his consent, she lifted his tunic over his head and tossed it to the floor. Cullen kept his eyes closed as she traced her fingers over the muscular planes of his chest. He was extraordinary, years of battle and training hardening him beautifully. His body was almost entirely muscle and strength. There was a small trail of blonde hair leading from his lower belly past the waistline of his trousers and Nell wanted nothing more than to trace her fingers down it. After a moment of appreciating him, she began to count the scars. One thick silvery one traced down the left side of his chest. He shivered as she ran her finger down the mark. Another cut from his right side and curved in towards the center of his belly. Other, smaller ones were scattered over his pale skin. Slowly, carefully, Nell leaned forward and pressed her lips to the one across his chest. Instinctively, he flinched and tried to step back. She wrapped her fingers around his upper arms and held him close to her. She moved to kiss the one on his side. Still, he watched her, eyes widened, nervous. She continued to catch each scar with her lips, even the ones on his arms and hands. His breath hitched in his throat and he cupped her chin, pulling her up to kiss him. She guided him over to the bed and pressed him down. He sat on the edge, looking up at her, fear still tugging the corners of his mouth down.

“Nell, there’s more-” Before he could explain, she’d climbed onto the bed behind him, looking at his back for the first time. Stretching down his muscled flesh were three long, deep scars, resembling claw marks. They were old, probably several years, but still just as startling. Nell couldn’t stop the gasp that tore from her throat. Cullen sighed and tipped forward, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. He wouldn’t look at her. Nell crawled forward and tentatively put her hands on his shoulders. She rubbed his tense muscles softly.

          “Cullen, talk to me,” she whispered. He took a shaking breath before speaking.

          “Kinloch Hold, one of the lasting reminders of my torture,” he said, voice breaking. She felt a twist of guilt as she watched him wring his hands nervously. Shame was evident on his face and it made tears prick at the corners of her eyes. He leaned against her at her touch and she kissed the top of his head. Then she gently pushed him down against the pillows. He followed her guidance and lowered himself on his stomach before her. He pressed his reddening cheeks into the pillow and Nell couldn’t miss his shaking hands. Tenderly, she straddled his back and slowly traced each scar with her fingers. He shivered and she paused to kiss the back of his neck.

          “Cullen, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for what they did to you, for everything you’ve suffered, and I’m sorry for…reacting the way I did.” He twisted his head to look at her.

          “If this…if you don’t…I –I would understand.” She silenced him by kissing the center scar, her fingers digging into the tight muscles of his shoulders. He gasped softly, tensing beneath her touch. She kissed her way down the scar before moving to the second one. It took several minutes for her to finish her work, leaving a trail of kisses up his spine and the back of his neck. He sighed, fingers tightening around the pillow. She twisted her fingers in his hair and kissed the shell of his ear.

          “You’re the most handsome man in Thedas, have I ever told you that?” she murmured. He chuckled, the sound deep and throaty. She took a breath before continuing. “Your past does not define you, and it certainly doesn’t frighten me away from you. You’re a good man, Cullen. You don’t have to hide these things from me,” she murmured in his ear. He wriggled beneath her and sat up, scooping her into his arms. With one arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand twisted in her hair, he held her as if she was the one thing anchoring him to his bed. He buried his face into the crook of her neck and she felt a slight tremble to his shoulders, as if he was crying. She nuzzled against his hair, whispering as much comfort as she could. _Shh, it’s alright. It’s alright, Cullen, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere._ He cupped her cheeks in trembling hands and pressed his forehead to hers.

          “I love you, Tirnella. You have my heart, you’ve had it since the day we met. Maker, I love you,” he said, kissing her forehead gently. His cheeks were still flushed and his face was tense with worry. Nell’s heart skipped as he said those words. It wasn’t unexpected, Maker knows she’d been thinking about saying it almost every time they’d been together for weeks. He watched her with feigned calmness, his eyes drifting down to her lips. She tilted his chin up and kissed his mouth lightly.

          “I love you, Cullen” she told him. Maker, the look on his face nearly stopped her heart dead.

“Really?” he asked breathlessly. Nell nodded.

“I really do. I love you.” He crashed his lips to hers in earnest, eliciting a surprised squeak from her, followed shortly by a soft moan when he parted her lips gently and brushed her tongue with his. She pressed him back against the pillows and he laughed before reaching up to brush her cheek. Grinning wickedly, she pressed down against the front of his trousers, his length responding to her movements immediately. He gripped her hips, pushing back up against her. She pressed her lips to the hard line of his jaw. “Commander Rutherford, you are far too overdressed for my tastes,” she murmured against his skin. She looked up at him, watching his reaction.

          There it was. That _fucking_ smirk.

          “My Lady Inquisitor, are you implying you intend to-” His words caught in his throat as she rolled her hips again, rubbing against the front of his trousers ever so softly. Cullen bit back a moan, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips. Heat pooled in her stomach as she felt him twitch beneath her. Everywhere she touched him, Cullen felt like his skin was on fire. For months, he had imagined what it would feel like to hold her, to touch her, to make love to her. It seemed impossible, a beautiful dream he’d wake up from before he could be with her. And yet, here she was, her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands wandering down his chest. Sometimes he still had to remind himself it was real. He put his hand on the back of her neck and tugged her down to him, kissing her. “I love you,” he murmured against her mouth. She laughed and reached up to undo her braid, shaking her hair loose. Cullen drew in a strained breath. With another wiggle of her hips, she bent over him and twisted her fingers tightly in his hair.

          “And I love you. Now, are you going to make love to me or shall I make it an order?” she whispered in his ear.

          With a growl, Cullen rolled them, pressing her into the mattress and tugging her tunic over her head. He made a choked moan in the back of his throat at the sight of her. His expression faltered when he noticed his coin, hanging from a chain between her breasts. He touched it softly, looking back up at her. “I told you I would keep it safe,” she said. Cullen kissed her like he’d never kissed her before. When their lips parted, she laughed again. Maker as his witness, Cullen never heard a more beautiful sound. He reached for her breastband eagerly, and began to unlace it. He cursed under his breath when the blighted thing caught, before tugging it off of her and tossing it carelessly to the floor. He paused for a moment, giving her time to say no. She nodded and instantly his mouth was on her, teeth nipping at the skin of her neck before soothing it with his tongue. She arched her back, fingernails digging into his shoulders. He trailed down her neck to her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. Nell hooked a leg around Cullen’s waist and pulled him against her, grinding against the front of his trousers. He groaned, arms shaking with the effort to hold back. Tirnella made him feel like he was seventeen again, all passion and aching desire, his desperation to touch her was so difficult to reign in. His cock, confined in his trousers, had begun to throb in time with his racing heartbeat. He kissed Nell’s face. “You’re so beautiful, Nell. I’m the luckiest man in Thedas,” he whispered. She smiled.

“You’re about to get a whole lot luckier.” She put one hand on the back of his neck, one hand on the bulge of his trousers, and kissed him. He moaned against her mouth and hooked his fingers around the waistline of her pants and he tugged them down, pressing wet kisses to her chest, stomach, and bare thighs. She groaned. He smirked as he pulled her smallclothes down, tossing them aside as well. He cupped her backside and lifted her slightly, then placed another lingering kiss high up on her inner thigh. But before he could press his mouth to her sex, she twisted her fingers in his hair and gently pulled him up to her.

          “You don’t want me to?” he asked, slightly breathless. She yanked at the ties on his trousers, panting.

          “We have time for finesse later, I need you _now_ , Cullen. Please,” she all but begged. He had an argument prepared to defend his right to please her as much as he could, but when she pushed her hand in his trousers and wrapped her fingers around his member, he hissed and the argument was gone. Nell stroked him, pressing her lips against his pulse in his neck.

          “ _Maker’s fucking breath, Nell,”_ he gasped against the crook of her neck. She pushed his trousers down his hips, taking his smalls with them. He eagerly kicked them to the floor and kissed her again, his aching length pressing against the wetness between her thighs. He pulled back, looking at her with a mix of hunger and fear in his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered. She took his hand and brought it between her legs. He made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whine as he felt her arousal.

“You won’t,” she breathed. She cupped his cheek and nodded and he guided himself into her slowly. His head spun and he drew in a sharp breath. He steadied himself, refusing to end it that soon. He could have spent the rest of his life in that moment, sheathed inside her, holding her in his trembling arms. He began to thrust, slowly at first, giving her time to adjust. She moaned, raking her nails across his back. He watched her face carefully, but when she showed no signs of pain or protest, he continued. Gripping her hips, he lifted her up, angling into her in a way that made her cry out.

          “Maker, Cullen,” she cried. “Don’t you dare stop.” He kissed the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

          “I’m not stopping until you see stars,” he growled. She laughed.

          “Well, with that hole in your roof-”

          He groaned in exasperation, but there was love in his voice. “Nell, shut up.” Again, she laughed and Cullen’s heart leapt with affection. His hand drifted down between them to circle her clitoris with his thumb. The sound she made when he touched her made his ears ring. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was coming undone, and fast. Only a few more thrusts into her and he’d be gone, for sure. But Tirnella, it seemed, was ahead of him. She was gripping his shoulders, her legs tight around his waist, and her breath was coming in quick gasps. He reached up and brushed the hair away from her face and pressed his forehead to hers.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured. Her grip on him tightened as her climax took her. She cried out his name, her fingers pulling at his hair almost enough to hurt. He soon followed, his vision going spotted, pressing his lips to hers in a fumbling kiss. “I love you,” he panted against her neck as they both came down from the exertion. She stroked his cheek lovingly. He withdrew from her and rolled to his back, pulling her with him to hold her against his chest. She hummed tunelessly and rubbed her fingers along the hard muscles of his arm. He took a lock of her hair, playing with it. “I had such plans for you, I didn’t last half as long as I wanted,” he said. He looked at her, nervous insecurity on his face. “Was it… I mean, did you-”

“It was perfect, Cullen,” she said, kissing his shoulder. He sighed.

“ _You_ are perfect, Tirnella.” She giggled and nuzzled against him even more.

          Just as sleep began to claim him, she spoke. “Cullen?” she mumbled into the darkness.

          “Hmm?”

          “When I said I love you, I meant it.” There was a moment of silence between them before Cullen kissed her softly. They said nothing else until sleep took them both.

          Nell woke with her limbs tangled in Cullen’s and his face pressed against her hair. She was sweaty and her right arm was entirely numb, but she could have stayed there forever. She watched him sleep for a moment, his features relaxed and calm. Gently, she ran her finger down his scarred lip. He sighed in his sleep.

          The sunlight filtering through the hole in the ceiling told her it was well past time to get up. She extracted herself from Cullen’s grip, making him whine softly before rolling onto his back, arm thrown out over the space she’d been occupying. She bent down to pick up her clothes where they lay discarded on the floor. Her smalls had managed to make it to the opposite side of the room. She chuckled softly, remembering how eager Cullen been when he had removed them. She sat on the edge of the bed to lace up her boots, and Cullen began to stir. It was the breathing she noticed first. He was panting, ragged and panicked. His eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw was clenched. He was having a nightmare, and by the looks of it, it was a particularly bad one. She rushed to his side.

          “No, leave me!” he cried. “Leave me!” With a gasp, he awoke, looking around frantically for something he recognized, Nell reached for him, bringing him back to reality. His eyes met hers and he sighed, visibly relaxing. She reached forward and put a hand on his chest, rubbing gently. His heart was racing beneath her fingertips.

          “Bad dream?” she asked. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

          “They always are. Without lyrium, they’re worse.” His eyes opened suddenly and he regarded her with concern. He cupped her cheek with his trembling hand. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” Nell smiled and ran her fingers from his temple to the edge of his jaw. He leaned into her touch, eyes fluttering closed.

          “You can let me worry a little.”

          “You are… I have _never_ felt anything like this.” He rested his forehead against hers.

          “I love you, you know that right?”

          He chuckled. “I should certainly hope so, I am naked at the moment, it would be uncomfortable if you didn’t.” She rolled her eyes and gently shoved him back against the pillows.

          “Hilarious.” She stood to leave.

          He sighed happily and closed his eyes again. Just as she got to the ladder, he called to her.

          “I love you too, just so we’re clear.”

          She laughed before dropping down the ladder and Cullen heard the office door opened and shut. Cullen rolled on to his stomach and pressed his face into the pillows. They smelled like wildflowers and grass and he clutched them, trying to pretend the wetness on his cheeks was sweat.

          _Maker, I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I’ll spend the rest of my life thanking you._


	16. Breaking the Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tirnella gets closer to capturing Samson, but the reality of what she must do when she does is beginning to weigh on her. Cullen has an unexpected lunch date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Some descriptions of violence. Mention of blood. Mention of drinking. Mention of sexual content.

“The Emprise du Lion, Cullen, can you fucking believe it? Even the name makes the place sound terrible.”

          Cullen chuckled from where he was kneeling by the fire, setting wood in the dying flames. He glanced over his shoulder at Nell, who was perched on the edge of her desk wrapped in only a bed sheet. She had a cup of tea in her hands and she was staring into it with furrowed eyebrows. Cullen went to her, taking her face in his hands. She sighed.

          “It’s only for a little while, my love. You know how grateful I am that you’re making this journey to find more information on Samson. When you return I’ll have a hot bath and as much alcohol as you can drink waiting.”

          Nell smirked. “Trying to get me drunk and naked, Commander?” she teased. Cullen smiled and kissed her softly.

          “Well it worked out quite well for me last night,” he murmured, making her laugh. He gestured to the sheet draped loosely over her chest. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be dressed? Your group is set to leave in less than an hour. Have you even packed?”

          Nell grinned and slipped her fingers around the waistline of his pants and tugged him closer. “I can pack later, but I only have you for a little while. Why don’t you take off these trousers and give me something to remember on lonely nights while I’m away.”

          Cullen swallowed hard and closed his hands around her wrists, pulling her hands back. “Nell, we can’t, we have responsib-”

          She lifted her arms and let the sheet fall open and Cullen’s words trailed off. He dropped his gaze for a moment before sighing in frustration. He wordlessly lifted her and carried her to the bed. She giggled at her victory.

          “Don’t pretend to be angry, the bulge in your pants is telling me everything I need to know,” Nell said. Cullen tugged at the laces of his trousers and rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile.

          “You, Tirnella Trevelyan, are wicked,” he said in a low voice. He joined her in the bed and kissed her, knowing they would both be late, but he didn’t care in the slightest. When the two of them had finally managed to extract themselves from bed, Cullen helped Nell pack. He slid her hunter’s coat over her arms, using it to pull her closer one last time. She sighed, her head tucked under his chin.

          “This goes without saying at this point, but I hope you know I’ll think of you every day,” Nell said softly. Cullen grinned. She lifted her head and brushed her fingers from his temple to the edge of his jaw. “Will you be alright while I’m gone?” He understood her meaning without asking for clarification. It was an unspoken fear constantly nagging at her and he knew it. _Would he break when she wasn’t there to save him?_ Despite how worried he should be, Cullen could only smile.

          “Do you ever stop worrying?” he asked.

          “Do you?” she shot back, her eyebrows raised.

          “You’re quite flippant today,” Cullen teased, kissing her forehead. “I swear, I’ll be fine. When you’re gone I hardly have time to worry about myself, I’m too busy reading reports about the dragons you challenged or the dangerous missions you went on.”

          “Commander, are you implying I’m reckless?” Nell asked in a low voice. Cullen laughed loudly, stepping away from her to fetch her pack.

          “You’re late. Go,” he said. She crossed her arms, her lower lip sticking out in an absurdly childish pout. Cullen took her face in his hands and brought her lips to his, taking his time to memorize the feel of them. She made a soft little groan and he knew he had to let her go before they accidentally found their way between bed sheets again.

          “Tirnella, I love you. Please come home to me,” he said quietly. She smiled.

          “I always do. I love you.”

         

          Nell was being accompanied to Emprise du Lion by Solas, Sera, and Cassandra. Cole was still too weak for battle, so Nell left him with specific instructions to rest and to feed her cat. He was thrilled to be given the job and he and the cat scampered off together as soon as Nell left. The group gathered in the courtyard clad in traveling cloaks and armor, their packs stuffed full with supplies. They mounted their horses and sped off, sorry to leave Skyhold behind them.

          Transitioning from the Emerald Graves to the Emprise du Lion was staggering. Where the Graves had tall trees and colorful wildflowers, the Emprise had jagged cliff edges and ice. Nell kept her hands tucked carefully in her jacket, her nose entirely numb in the cold. Upon arrival, the group was met with a town in ruins, barely scraping by with what little the Inquisition could provide since they’d made camp there. On the third morning, an Inquisition scout greeted Nell with a sealed envelope. Inside was a letter and a single pressed flower, delicate and paper thin.

_Tirnella-_

_As promised, a letter to assure you I haven’t perished in your absence. I had a headache yesterday afternoon that made paperwork significantly worse than usual, other than that, I only miss you. I hope your work in the Emprise du Lion is going safely, I’m eager to hear more news on Samson._

_With you_ and _Sera gone, Skyhold is eerily quiet – no one has been teased or pranked in hours and morale is dwindling dangerously._

_Stay safe. I love you._

_Yours, Cullen_

Cullen sank into his chair with a sigh and rested his cheek against the palm of his hand. His limbs were heavy with sleeplessness and tension. He’d slept poorly without Nell by his side. She’d been gone a week and each day he missed her more. His mind wandered further, remembering how she’d kissed him goodbye, how they’d spent the night together tangled in bed sheets and each other. He remembered her laugh.

          An airy voice from the shadowy end of his office interrupted his thoughts, making him jump.

          “She thinks of you too, you know. All the time.”

          Cullen rose to his feet, swearing. “Damn it, Cole, haven’t I told you not to do that?” he snapped. Cole sighed.

          “If you didn’t think so loud, I wouldn’t have to listen,” Cole replied sharply. Cullen grumbled to himself and dropped into his chair again. Cole slinked forward, his fingers drifting over the backs of books as he walked.

          “Why are you here, Cole?” Cullen asked.

          “To sit with you.”

          “Beg your pardon?”

          “You miss her.”

          “Of course I do.”

          “You love her,” Cole said. Cullen swallowed, a red blush creeping across his face.

          “Of course I do,” he repeated.

          “Would you like to hear a story about rabbits?”

          “Cole, why would I-”

          “So you won’t be lonely.”

          Cullen gaped at Cole for a moment, feeling a surge of sudden gratefulness for the boy. He nodded slowly. “Alright, Cole, tell me your story about rabbits.” The words leaving his mouth felt so foreign, so awkward. He cleared his throat and looked away. Cole began his story and Cullen felt a small smile tug the corners of his mouth. For once, he understood why Nell was so attached to Cole. Demon or not, he was kind.

          Surprisingly, this became Cullen’s routine for the rest of Nell’s trip. Around midday, Cole would appear in his office – seemingly from nowhere – and say something bizarre and difficult to understand before sitting with Cullen and talking for a while. At first, Cullen couldn’t understand why the boy was so dedicated to his visits, but he couldn’t say he minded them. After the end of two weeks without Nell, he even found himself looking forward to Cole arriving. He’d asked food to be brought for the two of them, though he never saw Cole eat, his plate always emptied. The paperwork sat on his desk, neglected, while Cole chattered about some lake he’d seen in his travels recently. Tirnella’s cat jumped on Cullen’s desk and knocked papers down, but Cullen didn’t care enough to pick them up. He merely patted the creature’s head fondly. For the first time since Nell left, he didn’t feel restless.

          She wrote to him often, keeping him updated. Of course he worried constantly, but he felt a strange sense of peace as he read her letters. She, of course, complained about the snow and the ice, and described the purple bruise on her ass in exquisite detail. At the bottom of the page was a doodle that could have only been drawn by Sera, showing Nell falling, then an up close drawing of her bruised rear. Cullen smirked, noting Sera must have drawn from example, due to its startlingly close resemblance to the real thing.

Nell had been gone three weeks and was due home any moment. He found himself spending most mornings excitedly looking into the courtyard, hoping to see a flash of her red hair, or hear her laugh. That morning, though he should be working, he was lounging lazily on his couch, Nell’s most recent letter in his hands.

_Cullen-_

_Andraste’s ass, I feel like I’ve got two squabbling children to mind, on top of all of Thedas. Sera picked a fight with Solas yesterday on the importance of Elven artifacts and it escalated until Sera put spiders in his pack, so he set her bow on fire. I think I’ve died and gone to the void. I’m bringing them back to Skyhold and they are in trouble until further notice. We are leaving this afternoon, I’ll probably arrive with this letter. Just wanted you to know I can’t wait to see you and your incredible arms again._

_Love, Nell_

          “What are you smiling about?”

          Cullen jumped, Nell’s letter falling to the floor. He scrambled to his feet.

          “Maker’s breath, I thought the door was – Nell!” he exclaimed. She was leaning on his door frame, her pack still on her shoulder. She smiled, but it was tired. Cullen noticed her clothes were hanging off of her thin frame – far more than when she left. The skin under her eyes was purple. Cullen was by her side in an instant. He took the pack from her and set it on the ground before sweeping her into his arms. She squeezed him as hard as her small mage arms could, and he squeezed back, so grateful he could hold her again after so many lonely nights. He pulled her to the couch and she collapsed on it in a huff, her exhaustion evident. Cullen told her to wait while he stepped out onto the battlements. Nell heard his voice softly tell a nearby solider that the Commander would be unavailable for the afternoon. She chuckled to herself.

          “I missed you so much,” Cullen whispered against her lips when he returned. She smiled.

          “I’ve missed you,” she breathed back, her fingers curling around his arms. “Don’t get too close, I reek like hell. I came straight here, I’ve no doubt there is a mound of work waiting for me in my quarters. Who knew winning a war would be so time consuming?”

          “Everyone but you knew that, apparently,” Cullen quipped.

          There was a timid knock on the door and Cullen growled angrily. He wrenched it open and the terrified looking scout on the other side thrust a note towards him. “F-forgive me, Commander. Sister Leliana sent this for the Inquisitor, says it was urgent.” With that, he darted away, and Cullen shut the door behind him. He handed the note to Nell, Leliana’s black wax seal on the front. She opened it, and Cullen watched her curiously. Nell’s eyes went wide and she lurched to her feet.

          “I have to go,” she said suddenly, rushing for the door. She had her hand on the door before she spun around and went back to Cullen, kissing him swiftly. “Come see me tonight. I love you.” And then she was gone, as quickly as she had come. Cullen sighed, disappointed. He felt a hint of worry at her sudden departure, but he was reassured by her invitation to join her later. _If she was in any sort of trouble, she’d tell you,_ he assured himself.

          The day passed slowly, with Cullen itching to finish his work and go to Nell’s quarters. Finally, when the sun had set, he knew he couldn’t wait a moment longer. He made his way through the Great Hall, nodding at Varric as he passed. He walked more confidently to Nell’s room now, with his chin held high and his steps sure. He jogged up the stairs, eager to see her again.

          He paused when he saw her leaning against her desk, her face tense with worry and her arms crossed. She was looking out the windows blankly. Cullen cleared his throat.

          “Tirnella, is everything alright?” he asked timidly. Her face brightened when she saw him, but he could see the nervousness lying beneath the surface. He was by her side in a few large strides, pulling her into his arms. “Sweetheart, what’s bothering you?” he mumbled against her hair. She took two handfuls of his tunic and rested her cheek right below his collarbone. She laughed softly.

          “You don’t wear armor anymore when we’re alone,” she said.

          “Of course I don’t, I want to hold you without cold metal between us,” he replied, then kissed the edge of her jaw and she sighed happily, leaning into his touch. “You are avoiding the question. What is bothering you?”

          “I have something to give you.”

          “Nell, I’m serious-”

          “So am I. This is part of it.” She pulled out of his grasp and went to her desk, pulling something small out of the top drawer. He watched curiously as she held out a small glass vial. Inside it was a thick, dark sort of liquid. He took an involuntary step backward and his insides turned to ice.

          “A phylactery?” he asked, blood loudening in his ears. Her face was calm as she held it out to him.

          “It’s mine. I want you to have it,” Nell said softly. Cullen shook his head.

          “Maker, no, I-I can’t. It’s wrong. I don’t want to have that kind of power over you, Nell. Where did you even find the wretched thing?” He was panicked, his face going pale. She sighed, her face screwing up in concentration.

          “I had Leliana’s people track it down. Cullen, listen to me,” she said. He swallowed hard and his eyes flickered down to the small vial in her hands. “I need to know this is somewhere safe. There is no one in the world I would trust more with this. I know you won’t hurt me. You can keep this safe – protect it, and me. But if… if something happens, then you’ll have the power to end-”

          “Don’t you dare say that, Tirnella. You cannot seriously be asking me to be the one to… Do you really think I could kill you?” His voice broke and he sounded so wounded, so disturbed, that Nell half considered taking the whole thing back. “Please, I’m begging you, do not ask me this.”

          “I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, Cullen. You are strong and you would know if it was necessary. You wouldn’t let me hurt anyone. I trust you to do the right thing, no matter how painful it may be. I’m sorry, truly sorry that you even have to think about this, but I’m a Mage, that comes with certain risks. I don’t want anyone else to have that power but you.”

          Cullen turned away from her, his fingers twisting in his hair for a moment. She didn’t follow him; she only clutched the little vial of blood to her chest and waited. Cullen sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. He turned and strode towards her with renewed vigor, crushing his mouth against hers almost too roughly. His cheeks felt wetter than they’d been a moment before, but perhaps it was her imagination.

          “I love you, Nell,” he whispered, cupping her face in his hands. “But I can’t take this.” She opened her mouth to argue but he silenced her with another soft kiss. “Listen to me, please. I trust you, more than I would trust anyone in the world. Tirnella, I think you should destroy it. Break the last of the chains the circle put you in… take control, I know you can.” Nell remained silent for quite some time, staring blankly at the vial, running her thumb absently over the smooth glass. Cullen cupped his hands around hers and raised their hands to his lips. Finally, she locked eyes with him.

          “Alright,” she breathed. “Help me destroy it.”

          Cullen sighed with relief and touched his forehead to hers.

          “For you, anything.”

          They knelt by the fire together, Cullen rubbing a small circle in the center of her back. Nell uncorked the small vial, her fingers shaking ever so slightly. Cullen did not reach for her hands, he only kissed the side of her head, allowing her time to think on her own.

          “If I can’t do this…”

          “You can,” he whispered. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, tipping over the vial into the flames. For a moment they watched it bubble and burn, Cullen never left her side. She leaned against him. She tossed the vial in after before rising to her feet. Cullen watched her carefully, smiling proudly. “How do you feel?”

          She sank down to the edge of her bed and laugh airily. “I thought I would feel different, but I don’t. I feel relaxed. Will you sit with me?” He joined her on the bed. She took his hand in hers and leaned against his shoulder. “Thank you, Cullen. You’re good to me,” she mumbled. Cullen brushed his thumb over her knuckles.

          They went to the couch together. Nell nestled against Cullen’s chest and closed her eyes, listening to the vibration of his voice as he read to her – one of Varric’s romance novels. He kept one arm wrapped around her, always, and every once in a while he would pause in his reading and kiss the top of her head reverently. Then, he would continue on as if he’d never stopped. The way they touched each other was almost unconscious. She would absently run her fingers down his cheek and in turn he would squeeze her hand. A small caress here, a light kiss there, it didn’t matter, so long as they could be close. It was like a gentle reminder that the other still remained exactly where they were supposed to be. When they crawled into bed that night, after he’d made Nell come no less than three times, she lay sprawled on her stomach while Cullen slept on his back. As always, Nell would take his hand and hold it close all night, so if he woke in fear from a nightmare, he would have an anchor to bring him back safely. She woke often to check on him, and though she thought he was sleeping, most of the time he could feel her lift her head and lean closer before she lowered it back to her pillow. He would always smile then and shift to be closer to her. In her bed, he was safe.

         

          The next morning, Cullen summoned Nell to his office to discuss Samson. He was pleased Tirnella had destroyed his red lyrium supply in the Emprise du Lion, but he remained very eager to possess the man himself. Despite their best efforts, he’d stayed annoyingly out of their reach thus far.

          “I’ve been reading the letters found in the quarry. Samson is making red lyrium from people?”Cullen said, disgusted.

          “Not anymore, not in that mine,” Nell said. Cullen sighed sadly.

          “I knew Samson had fallen, but this? It’s monstrous. We have to put an end to him,” he growled. Nell felt a twinge of anxiety at his phrasing. “Look at these orders from the encampment,” he said, handing her a note. “That armor must give Samson extraordinary power. We may not be able to stop him.”

          “Samson is a menace, if we can’t defeat him, no one stands a chance,” Nell said, crossing her arms.

          “Then we must destroy the armor,” Cullen insisted, frowning. “I couldn’t say how. Templars are trained _not_ to destroy expensive magical equipment,” he joked. Nell chuckled. They both stood in silence for a moment before Nell gasped, and Cullen, seeming to sense what she’d realized, joined her in shouting, “Dagna!”

          “She’ll know how to do it!” Nell cried excitedly. Cullen nodded.

          “She crafts the impossible every day,” he agreed. “Go, get whatever you need from her.”

          Nell sprinted from his office straight to the undercroft, skidding to a halt in front of Dagna. The cheery dwarf smiled brightly.

          “Inquisitor! What brings you here?” she asked.

          “Dagna, what have you learned about Samson?” she asked breathlessly.

          “He should be dead,” Dagna said simply. I mean, you could make a hat out of red lyrium and kill people. Especially the wearer. Samson’s armor, it’s genius. To do all this and not go insane, it must be resistant. Or he _is_ insane. Or both!”

          “So in addition to killing others, it’s slowly consuming him too?” Nell asked hopefully.

          “Yes. But, slow is not fast. It doesn’t matter, I can find a way to hurt him. I just need time and red lyrium – for tests.”

          “Is that wise? I don’t want any harm done to you,” Nell said. Dagna waved her concern off.

          “Everything is safe if handled properly. And you don’t touch it long. Or breathe it. I mentioned the hat, right? No hat. Time and resource, Inquisitor. I’ll get what you want. Now shoo, I have work to do!”

          Nell could have kissed Dagna, and she almost did, but instead she practically skipped out of the undercroft and back to Cullen, telling him what she’d learned. Cullen jumped out of his chair excitedly.

          “This is wonderful news!” he said. “Nell, this is the break we’ve been needing. We are so close to getting rid of Samson.”

          Again, his wording made Nell feel uneasy. She furrowed her brows.

          “Cullen, if we capture Samson alive, how do you want him handled?” she asked quietly. Cullen’s face darkened and he rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully.

          “I want him dead,” he said roughly. Nell nodded and did not bring it up again.

          It only took Dagna two days to get all of the supplies she requested, as Nell marked the requisitions at a top priority. She knew Dagna would work quickly, she felt very unsettled by the idea of taking Samson’s life. So far, she had only killed in combat. Self defense. This time was different. She would take him prisoner, and, if she chose, have him killed. The idea made her stomach twist unpleasantly and her palms sweat. The sooner Dagna finished her work, the sooner Nell would have to choose.

          After a week, Cullen asked to speak with her again. Nell dreaded talking about Samson, so she climbed the steps to his office sluggishly.

          Cullen smiled proudly when she entered. “No red lyrium, no allies, and soon Samson will have no armor, I hope,” he said.

          “You hope?” Nell asked.

          “Dagna’s started work on her red lyrium samples, but she needs more details on the armor. We found orders in the mine. They mention Madox, a name I did not expect to hear,” he said, his voice turning sad. Nell furrowed her brow.

          “Another voice from your past?” she asked gently. Cullen shrugged.

          “In a way. This is complicated. Madox was a mage in Kirkwall’s Circle. Samson smuggled letters between him and his sweetheart. Eventually, Samson was caught – that’s why he was cast out of the Order. Madox was made tranquil and became a skilled craftsman of magical items. Samson must have… rescued him.”

          Nell sneered in disgust. “They made him Tranquil over a handful of love letters?” she spat. “That is vile.” Cullen’s face softened and he took her hand.

          “I didn’t mean to upset you, Nell. We don’t have to continue talking of this,” he said gently. Nell shook her head.

          “Having an inside man among Samson’s forces would be invaluable, if we could convince him,” she said. Cullen shrugged again.

          “I couldn’t say. I’ve lived around Tranquil most of my life, and I’ve never understood them. It seems Madox built Samson’s armor for him, and maintains it still. Tranquil in Kirkwall needed rare expensive supplies for their enchantments – supplies we can trace. I can have our men kick down some doors, Inquisitor. Samson’s armor might lead us right to his stronghold.”

          Nell nodded. “Do it, I want to be done with this.”

          Cullen came around his desk and embraced her, kissing her cheek three times before releasing her. “I’m so grateful for the work you’ve put into this,” he murmured. Nell laughed and nudged him in the ribs.

          “Come now, don’t get all sappy on me, we’ve got work to do,” she said. Cullen rolled his eyes.

          “I’ll let you know as soon as we have any answers,” he promised. “But, I’ve had enough work for today. Walk with me?” He gave her an innocent grin and Nell’s heart softened a little. Revenge plot or not, he was still her Cullen, and she accepted his offer gratefully, happy to be out of his office for a while. He held her hand the whole walk, unless someone was passing by, but Nell could tell by his soldiers’ obvious attempt at looking anywhere else that their secret was not a secret any longer. She stifled a laugh as Cullen put a foot between them at the sight of a scout coming the opposite way. The scout grinned broadly and saluted.

          “Inquisitor. Commander,” he said firmly. Nell heard him whisper to her as he passed, “Mrs. Commander,” and she snorted loudly. Cullen raised his eyebrows at her.

          “Something funny?” he asked. She shook her head and Cullen continued walking. While his back was turned Nell glanced over her shoulder at the soldier, who was now at his post on the battlements. He saluted her.


	17. A Sabbatical From Sanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brush with death leaves Nell wrestling with the worst of her feelings about the Inquisition as the confrontation of Samson looms ever nearer, and Cullen worries he may lose her. Meanwhile, a surprise visitor to Skyhold puts Nell in a very uncomfortable position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warning: Suicidal ideation. PTSD/Trauma. Depictions of gore and violence. Mentions of drinking. Relationship tension/angst. Self harm mention.

Nell was dreaming she was on the sea, floating in a little white boat. The sun was warm on her face, though not unbearably so. She was relaxed and dipping gently side to side; she could taste the salt in the air on her tongue. She was happy. She was safe.

          Her boat tipped to the right and she stiffened, not wanting to be disturbed. She felt a pressure on her chest, and she squirmed. She was being dragged from her sleep forcefully, and the pressure on her chest was growing, becoming very painful. Her eyes flew open, frantically searching the blackness above her. She was choking, her airway cut off by the very real knee pressed firmly above her heart. In the dim moonlight the glint of a blade could be seen. The attacker raised his arm to strike, panicking at his victim waking, and Nell caught his wrist, fighting him with all her might. She closed her eyes, summoning the strength to keep him at bay. The tip of the knife pressed into the soft flesh below her collar bone, and she felt a small dribble of blood. Her lungs were burning and she felt her blood pounding painfully in her temples, her body struggling to pass oxygen to her head.

          In that moment, certain she was going to die, she thought of her cat. _Would Cole be able to take care of him?_ Then, as her vision dimmed, she thought of Cullen. A tear slid from the corner of each eye, dripping down into her tangled hair. _Sweet Cullen. She wished she could tell him how sorry she was._

Her attacker raised his other fist and struck her across the face, making her cry out in pain. She kicked wildly, trying to throw him from his perch on her chest, but he was sitting firmly, hitting her again and again. Her lower lip split open and she gagged, tasting blood. She held his wrist as firmly as she could, praying for someone to find her.

          There was a brilliant flash of green light and the weight on her chest disappeared. She drew in a breath, her sternum screaming in pain. She coughed as she scrambled to the edge of the bed, hands groping for something – anything – she could fight with. She found her staff, whipping around to see her attacker lying still on the rug. In the darkness she could see jagged protrusions from his chest, and with horror Nell realized she was looking at the man’s torn open rib cage. The jagged tips of his shattered bones stuck out in grotesque angles, and his innards resembled ground meat – almost unrecognizably damaged. His blood was draining onto the stone floor of her quarters, his face was frozen in agony. The staff clattered to the floor. Her left hand was throbbing slightly and she knew without looking the green light that had killed him came from her. She knew immediately what she had done. For the first time in her life, her magic frightened her. She had hated it before, resented it, been ashamed of it, but never had she been afraid of it. Her heart still racing, both from fear and the lack of air, Nell stumbled forward blindly. She stepped over the attacker, her feet tracking through something wet. She felt her stomach turn.

          The guards posted outside her door in the Great Hall stared horrified as she pushed open the door and collapsed at their feet, bloody footprints behind her, tears streaming down her bruised and bloodied face. She looked at them blankly as one ran for help, while the other put her arm around Nell’s shoulders.

          “Easy, Inquisitor, I’ve got you,” she whispered, her Ferelden accent thick; in other circumstances Nell would’ve found her charming. The woman held Nell’s trembling hands tightly. “Inquisitor, is there anyone in your quarters? Are you in danger, Your Worship?” she asked gently. Nell shook her head.

          All she could manage to choke out was “dead – he’s dead.”

          It wasn’t long before a clatter of footsteps came cascading down on Nell’s ears. There were lanterns and torches being lit, and urgent voices. A blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. After a moment, the fuzzy din separated into voices she recognized.

          “Tell me exactly what happened!” Leliana snapped. To whom, Nell did not know.

          “– anyone checked the damn room yet?” Dorian. _What was he doing up?_

          “Maker, in Skyhold of all places!” Josephine.

          Then, finally, “where is she?” Cullen’s voice boomed over the others. “Someone tell me where the hell –” He spotted her, his face ashen, his tunic wrinkled and inside out. Immediately, he was on his knees in front of her, her hands in his. “Tirnella,” he choked. He was squeezing her fingers too tightly and her head was pounding still, the sudden brightness of the room was overwhelming. Nell pushed herself to her feet, Cullen keeping an annoying grip on her elbow.

          “I am fine,” Nell said, silencing the chatter. She looked at the gathered crowd for the first time. It was small, no doubt Leliana’s attempt at not raising a panic. Dorian, who must have followed Leliana, looked bizarrely unkempt as he watched her with concern. Her advisors had gathered, along with a handful of soldiers. “The body is in my quarters. He must have entered through the window, though I’ve no idea how. I’m going back to bed. Well… someone’s bed anyhow. There is no need for a fuss.”

          The party stared for a moment, uncertain what to do. Josephine took a timid step forward. “Inquisitor, you’ve had a very trying evening, and I understand you wish to rest, but a healer must see to your wounds.”

          “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not – ” Her voice cut off as she glanced down to see the blood spreading across her chest, the wound on her neck oozing foully. She ran her fingertips across her skin and felt a gash roughly the length of her pinky – shallow, but bleeding heavily. She sighed in resignation. _Yet another scar from the Inquisition_ , she thought bitterly.

          Cullen tugged her gently to him. “You can stay with me,” he whispered to her. “If – if that’s alright, of course.” She sighed and nodded.

          “I want to,” she replied, leaning against him. He put his arm around her shoulder, supporting her.

          “You two,” he said, addressing the soldiers she’d originally found. “I want a thorough sweep of this fortress done. Wake up every man and woman we’ve got, search every room, every cupboard, then search the grounds. What happened tonight is unacceptable – see that it is not repeated.” The soldiers saluted and turned on a heel, running for the door. Nell squeezed her eyes shut, hardly opening them the entire way. Cullen walked with her carefully, his grip less tight now. In a blur, she was climbing his ladder and in his bed. He left her only for a moment, coming back with a cloth to clean the blood from her face and feet, a set of clothes for the morning, and a healer to bandage the cut. The bandage was itchy and annoying, but Nell was too tired to whine about it. When they were alone, Cullen knelt in front of her, his eyes watery.

          “I should have been there,” he whispered. “Nell, forgive me, I am so sorry.” Nell shrugged.

          “You had to work, how were you supposed to know an assassin would pick tonight to try and kill me?” she said casually. Cullen frowned.

          “Please do not joke about this. You could have…” He sighed, resting his head on her lap for a moment.

          “I love you, Tirnella, with all my heart,” was all he said. He helped her under the covers before climbing in beside her, already putting his arms around her waist. He pulled her against his chest and held her fast. Nell chuckled.

          “You’re going to do that all night, aren’t you?” she asked softly. Cullen nodded.

          “Absolutely.”

 

          When Nell awoke, she was sore. A brilliant bluish black bruise was blooming across her chest, and her breaths were like fire. Her right eye was swollen and bruised, and the split in her lip was scabbed over. The light told her it was past midday, and there were voices below her, arguing. Her ears perked to listen.

          “I want soldiers outside her door every single night,” she heard Cullen hiss, a soft thump followed that told her he’d slammed his fist on the table.

          “Do you think that is necessary, Commander?” Josephine said next.

Then, Leliana. “The last thing we need is for the Inquisitor to feel like a prisoner.”

“It’s for her own good! People like her must to be kept under watch!” Cullen said, exasperated. Those words sent a shiver through her. He sounded so sure, so authoritative, and so very much like a templar. She hastily tugged on her trousers and sloppily tied them, stuffed her feet in her boots, and dropped down the ladder, landing with a disruptive thud. The impact sent shooting pain through her body and she sucked in a quick gasping breath. All three advisors turned to her, startled.

“Forgive us, Inquisitor, we did not realize you were awake,” Josephine said. Nell’s eyes flashed directly to Cullen’s, but she said nothing before stomping out of his office, slamming the door behind her. As expected, he followed.

“Inquisitor!” he called. She walked faster. She went straight for the stables, ignoring Blackwall as she mounted a horse, urging it toward the gates. She was in a light tunic, and already cold, but she didn’t care. Cullen reached for the reigns and pulled. Her horse stamped her feet in frustration, whinnying softly. Nell gritted her teeth and straightened her back. “Nell, where are you going?” he asked.

“Out,” she said stiffly.

“You can’t go without protect-”

“I AM NOT A FUCKING CHILD!” she cried, her frantic voice echoing off the stone. For a very tense moment, Skyhold went quiet. “Commander, kindly remove your hand from my horse.” All eyes were on the two of them. Cullen clenched his jaw and released the reins. She did not wait for his reply, but sped for the gates, which were already open for her. Perhaps it was her outburst, perhaps it was the look on her face, but not a single person tried to stop her. She did not look back at Cullen.

 

She spent hours away from Skyhold, wandering, picking herbs she knew the healers needed. Her fingers were numb and she hadn’t stopped shivering, but she was alone and happy. Her left hand could not throb and hum when she could not feel it.

Eventually, she knew she must return. It was getting dark and her horse was bored and antsy. She patted its nose gently before riding back for Skyhold.

From the outside, it seemed normal. Most were indoors at this point, she could hear the chatter of many drunken voices in the tavern, and the soft metallic footsteps of armed guards pacing the battlements. With her head down, she went straight to her quarters, only to find it occupied. Cullen was slumped at her desk, scribbling on some parchment. He was frowning so hard he looked ten years older. Nell paused at the top of the steps and crossed her arms.

“Don’t you have an office?” she said, a little too harshly. Cullen tensed, raising his eyes to hers. He dropped his quill defiantly on his paper and leaned back.

“Decided to come back, did you?” he snapped, equally cold. Nell scoffed, tugging off her boots and tossing them aside.

“As if I have a choice,” she muttered, loudly enough for him to hear. Cullen stood and rounded the desk, leaning on it.

“Tirnella, what have I done to upset you?” he asked gently. Nell felt a surge of guilt at his sad tone and the worry lines working very hard to become permanent on his face. “Please, I’ve clearly hurt you in some way, I’ve sat here all day trying to work it out. Tell me what I did.”

“‘People like her need to be kept under watch,’ that’s what you said this afternoon,” she whispered. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, sighing.

“That’s what all this is about? Wanting to protect you?” he asked. Nell felt tears well in her eyes suddenly and she turned her back to him.

“People like me. Mages – in a locked room with guards outside the doors, I can never be alone, I can never be free, no matter what. Even you insist I be kept under lock and key. But maybe I should be; did you see what I did to that man? I tore him apart, and I didn’t even mean to! I thought I was dying, then he’s in _pieces_ on my floor. Maker, Cullen, maybe the Templars are right. Maybe imprisoned is _exactly_ where I belong.” She ended her sentence practically spitting, her voice crumbling.

She began crying hard, her shoulders shaking. She buckled, but before she could fall, she felt his arms around her. He picked her up and carried her to the couch, holding her on his lap. Softly, he brushed her wet cheeks, murmuring sweetly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, her face buried against his chest.

“First, let me make myself very clear, Nell, because it’s very important you understand what I meant this afternoon. When I said people like you, I meant important people. Indispensable, irreplaceable. Fear of your magic had not crossed my mind. Still, discussing it without you and trying to make the decision for you was a mistake I regret deeply. Though I want to do everything I can, ultimately it is your choice. I never want you to feel like you’re back in the Circle, Nell. Forgive me, suggesting what I did was wrong. Please, don’t blame yourself for what happened. You acted in self defense. Your magic is a part of you, and you have no reason to fear it.” She raised her head and looked at him, her eyes puffy and red.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked. Cullen smiled.

“You honestly think after last night I’ll ever sleep anywhere else again?” he asked. She sniffled and he kissed her forehead softly. “I’ll never leave you,” he whispered. They sat quietly for a moment, Nell playing with the hem of his tunic.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you today,” she said, “especially in front of all those people. The Inquisition needs to trust me, they need to know they have a reason to fight for me. I cannot fall apart like that again, or I’ll lose them.”

Cullen sighed. “Those people have seen you walk through the Fade and back. They’ve seen you topple a would-be god and a dragon, then climb out from under an avalanche. They were with you when you navigated Orlesian politics and prevented a civil war. One outburst in a courtyard isn’t going to doom the Inquisition. That being said, expect a note from Josephine in the morning,” he finished, smirking. Nell groaned and flopped her head back against the arm of the couch.

“This was all a lot easier when everyone thought I was a heretic and a criminal,” she complained.

“Some still do, if that eases things a bit,” Cullen quipped. Nell laughed for the first time that day. She nudged Cullen’s hand with hers and he responded accordingly, holding her fingers in his. “Your hands are cold,” he said. Nell nodded.

“The rest of me is cold too,” she muttered.

Though she was happy Cullen was there, there was still a knot in her stomach that no amount of hand holding and soft whispers could assuage – a nagging doubt, scratching the inside of her mind, begging to be let out. As her lover lay beside her, breathing slowly, she was awake, staring out the balcony windows, watching the clouds pass in front of the silver moon, darkening the room for a moment. The darkness pulsated on the edges of her vision, beating in time with her own heart. She felt a wave of abject panic rise in her throat and her stomach rolled. She slid out of Cullen’s arms and padded across the stone floor, slipping out onto the balcony. The sky was clear, stars dotted every inch of it. Nell gripped the railing, her trembling hands turning white in the cold. She tipped over the balcony and was sick.

In the bedroom behind her, Cullen slept soundly, completely unaware she had left. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve and sank to the floor, unable to stop herself from the tears that dripped from her eyes. She took a shaky breath as she rested her forehead on the railing, gazing down at the mountains and the snow below her. Her vision blurred and spun for a moment and she let her hand dangle through the stone bars. The surrounding tundra appeared to expand infinitely outward. Thedas, her home, her responsibility, now felt too much like the walls of a tower, encircling her from all sides of her life. She couldn’t sleep without dreaming of her Inquisition’s throne – or of the judgment she must pass while she sat in it. She thought of the future she’d been shown in Redcliffe. Thousands of innocent lives depended on her, and she knew herself to be their protector, so how could a kind and merciful Inquisitor mutilate a man without meaning to? And, when the time came, how could she condemn a man to die? Was Samson not Cullen who hadn’t been rescued? She squeezed her eyes shut as another bout of nausea overtook her. She cried quietly, hoping Cullen would sleep through it all. She did not know if she could look him in the eyes.

Part of her resented Cullen for asking so much of her, though she understood it was his responsibility to do so. She hugged her knees to her chest, her bare feet freezing on the cold stone. With a violent shiver she curled up against the edge of the balcony, praying for sleep or for death, though she was frighteningly unsure which she wanted.

 _Jump. You won’t feel a thing,_ a voice whispered in her head. She pressed against the stone railing harder, half hoping it would break and let her fall. In the end, sleep took her before she could think about it anymore.

She dreamt she was in her throne, her tunic black, her staff across her lap. Before her knelt an emaciated prisoner, his tattered clothing hanging off of his thin frame like curtains, his filthy curls falling in front of his face, obscuring it. With a bored wave of her hand, she motioned to the guards, who knew what she wanted. One took a fistful of the prisoner’s hair and lifted his face to the Inquisitor. His cheeks were hallow and sunken, his hazel eyes looked like he had died years ago. The Inquisitor smiled cruelly.

“Anything you wish to say, _Commander?_ ”

“Not…to…you,” came his raspy voice. He coughed, bright red blood dribbling down his chin. She gave another bored wave of her hand, and the guards knew it was time for the man to die.

“Maker’s breath, Tirnella, wake up!”

She awoke with a startle, blinking furiously at the now very bright light above her. Cullen had his hands under her arms before she could even respond and he had her inside in an instant, slamming the balcony doors behind him. He practically ran to the couch, setting her on the cushions reverently, brushing her hair from her eyes. She groaned at the warmth began to return to her fingers, making them burn agonizingly.

“What were you doing out there?” he hissed, the crease between his eyebrows deeper than she’d ever seen. She closed her eyes again and he shook her. “Tirnella Trevelyan, you answer me,” he said in a low voice. She tried to move her fingers but she could not. She glanced down to see Cullen rubbing her hands between his. They were white and waxy, with her fingertips going purple.

Cullen growled in frustration. “I’m cancelling your missions until further notice, Tirnella, you are staying home until you’re better.”

Nell pushed him away and tried to stand but her feet were numb and she buckled immediately, crashing back to the cushions. Cullen took her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers. “Nell, listen to me: something is _wrong_ ,” he choked, his eyes growing misty. “Something is very wrong. Please, please don’t push me away, I won’t lose you.” She stared at him with unblinking eyes and he only sighed. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he whispered. Nell felt moisture gathering in her eyes and she blinking it away stubbornly. She rubbed them roughly, trying to banish the image projected on the inside of her eyelids every time she closed them – trying to banish the Cullen she’d dreamt about. She could not erase the dream, so she banished the real Cullen instead, pointing weakly to the stairs.

“Go,” she said in a rough whisper, the only word she’d said all morning. Cullen gaped at her. He rose to his feet unsteadily before turning his back to her. He balled his hands into angry fists and paced in front of the fireplace, and for just a moment, Tirnella was afraid of him.

“Tirnella, I’m only going to ask you once: do you truly want me to leave? I cannot bear the thought of your suffering, but I will not beg you to let me stay.”

Nell brought her knees to her chest and dropped her eyes to the patterned rug at his feet. “Go,” she said again. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck angrily, then only sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Nell closed her eyes and when she opened them again he was gone.

Tirnella sobbed, feeling like her heart had been ripped in half. Her entire body ached and trembled as she cried into the couch cushions. She had wanted him to stay so badly but she didn’t see how he could. Despite her best efforts, she was cracking, and she knew she would only destroy him with her. The emaciated, dying man from her dreams was inside Cullen, waiting for her to beckon him forward. She hugged herself tightly, wishing she could take it all away, wishing she could have met him as a simple Ferelden farm boy, before the tragedies of their lives had destroyed them both.

Less than twenty minutes later she heard footsteps stomping up her staircase. The smell of hair oils and leather tickled her nose and she knew without looking it was Dorian standing above her, arms crossed.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. “I just passed Cullen in the Great Hall – he looks like hell, by the way. Care to explain why?”

“You’re angry,” she said quietly. Dorian scoffed.

“You are fucking right I’m angry. Do you think I haven’t worked it out yet, Nell? I see what’s happening to you, and it absolutely kills me to see you hurting this badly, but wounding the people who love you most is a little too cold for you, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Leave me alone, Dorian,” she muttered, closing her eyes again. Dorian huffed and sat beside her.

“Like hell I will. Unlike your mopey Templar, I don’t listen well. Tell me what’s going on.” His voice turned soft and she felt his manicured hands curl around her fingers, rubbing gently. Nell took a shaky breath.

“I’m disappearing, Dorian. I don’t know what’s happening to me, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’m so afraid I – I’ll hurt him. He has come so far, he will build a life after this, I know he will. But I can’t. Corypheus is going to kill me. Or Samson. Or the Venatori. Or a stupid accident. I almost died in my own bed the other day! The point it, I can’t survive this, I know I can’t. And if I do, I’m not so sure it’ll be me who comes out on the other side. It’s best I just stay by myself until it’s over. I don’t want to hurt him, but I have to, don’t you see?”

Dorian looked at her for a while before shaking his head. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Tirnella, and you know it. You’re not ‘protecting him’, you’re protecting yourself. You’re scared and overwhelmed and you think this is going to minimize the damage you do. We love you already, and if you die a part of all of us will die with you. I don’t speak for Cullen but I’m pretty sure I’d rather have my best friend by my side until the end. I understand you’re suffering, Nell, no one is under more pressure than you. If you let us, anyone in Skyhold would do anything for you.”

“That’s the point, don’t you get it?” she shouted. “It’s too much, I don’t deserve that! Please, just go. Cullen will be alright, you will be alright. I’ll do my job and that’s all. Just leave me alone.”

Dorian shook his head. “I am not giving up on you, Tirnella, even when you’re acting like a fool.” He stood, straightening his shirt indignantly. “You are loved, Nell. No amount of self sabotage will alter that.”

And with that, Dorian swept out of the room, leaving behind the faint smell of perfume.

Tirnella did not leave her quarters for the rest of the day. She skipped the War Room meeting, telling a scout to simply bring her the reports. The solider saluted, but his face was disapproving. Nell felt a twinge of humiliation she promptly stifled as she bent to finish her paperwork.

Much to her dismay, it was not the scout who returned with her reports, but Cullen. He stood uncomfortably, eyes trailing around the room. He was obviously dying for any shred of evidence that would allow him to piece together what she’d been doing that day, but Nell was giving him nothing. Though she felt a fresh wave of tears, she bit her lip, wishing for a brief moment she could take it all back – take _him_ back. Instead, he merely set the reports on her desk and turned to leave.

“Are you alright?” she asked before she could stop herself. Cullen did not look back.

“That should hardly concern you, Inquisitor, you’ve made the boundaries of our relationship clear.”

“So why come?” she snapped, angry at his indifference. He stiffened.

“To deliver the reports from the meeting you didn’t attend. Goodnight, Inquisitor.”

When he was gone she felt emptier than she had all morning. She didn’t sleep, choosing instead to lay lazily on the couch, staring blankly into the flickering fire.

For a week, she only saw Cullen in the War Room. He did not look at her, but she looked at him, the same terror and pain filling her chest every time she did. She hardly ate or slept, and she looked thinner than she’d been in years. Once, she could have sworn she heard Cullen’s familiar sharp knock on her door, but after she’d darted down the steps and torn it open, she found the hall empty and dark.

After the first week, she began to feel a sense of apathetic resignation. She still wept at night, when she was most lonely, but when she saw Cullen out training his soldiers, sweat glistening on his forehead, brow set and firm, she felt more assured she had made the right choice. While she wasted away, he looked stronger every day.

By the end of two weeks, she found herself wandering Skyhold absent mindedly. She had decided to leave on a mission the next morning, hoping time away would make her feel better. Skyhold seemed quieter than usual, and the guards standing at their posts appeared less than enthusiastic when they saluted her. Again, humiliation and guilt gnawed at her. The emotions in her head feeling suddenly far too overwhelming, she found herself in the tavern, in a quiet corner, drinking alone. There were Inquisition soldiers and refugees on all sides of her, laughing and talking and drinking. She felt bitter and jealous as she watched them.

Her jealousy was only amplified when, of course, the last man in Thedas she wanted to see waltzed in, grinning, with Captain Rylen on one arm, and a lovely blonde haired woman on the other. Nell gritted her teeth and drank more, feeling the numbness of the alcohol setting in. They sat a few tables away, talking and drinking. Cullen had clearly not seen her yet, judging by the stupid smile plastered on his stupid handsome face. Nell wiped her eyes discretely, though she knew no one wanted to look at her anyway. She’d burned her bridges, she deserved it. Much to her annoyance, the only person she wanted to talk to was _him_. Cullen Rutherford, former Templar, Commander of the Inquisition, and major pain in her ass.

All at once, she felt like a fool. She took another swig of her drink, then stood to talk to him. She was halted in her tracks by the other woman, probably a refugee or a worker in Skyhold, who had her hand resting on his forearm. Nell took a sharp breath as her hand inched towards his. Cullen took her hand, glanced at her and smiled and Nell’s heart shattered. She downed the rest of her drink and pushed through the crowd, stumbling drunkenly out into the cold night. Yet, she found herself making her way not to her own quarters, but to Cullen’s. Her logic screamed in protest but her heart yearned to be in his office, to smell his chest, to be with him again. She sat behind his desk, running her hands across the wood and parchment. Almost half an hour later, the door opened and he appeared, looking considerably more worn out than he’d seemed in the warm glow of the tavern.

Almost without thinking, she stood and walked toward him. He locked eyes with her, startled, and had hardly registered who she was before she pushed his chest, shoving him against the door with a thud. His mouth opened in surprise before her lips were on him, kissing him almost violently. For a moment, one terrifying moment, he didn’t react. But then, with a broken groan, he leaned into her, lifting her by her hips and crushing her to his chest. He carried her to the desk and with one arm, knocked his papers aside and set her down roughly. He kissed her neck and she moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair. He tugged her tunic buttons open and revealed her soft skin beneath, his fingers tugging at the straps on her breastband with desperation. They still hadn’t said a word to one another, but she delighted in the sounds he was making as she undid his belt and lifted his tunic over his head. With a predatory growl he pulled her trousers down her legs and lifted her by the back of her knees, pressing his hips between her thighs. He paused for a second, his gaze going clear briefly. She nodded and he entered her in one sweeping movement, making her gasp and toss her head back. Cullen wasted no time as he began to thrust into her, still holding her against his chest, breathing against the crook of her neck and shoulder. She moaned breathlessly, raking her nails down his back. It was over in minutes, neither of them wanting to bother with finesse and theatrics. She came with a low groan, clutching Cullen’s shoulders desperately. Once she was done, Cullen was free to follow, finishing in her with the snap of his hips and a fierce grip on her waist. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Cullen caught his breath, nuzzling against her neck. She was almost happy, but when she reached for his hand and he pulled it away, she realized what she had done to him.

He did his belt up and fetched his tunic from the floor, not bothering to hand her tunic to her. She dressed herself, anxiety bubbling in her chest. She turned to speak but when she saw him ignoring her to gather papers and reports from the floor, she knew she had lost him.

“Cullen-” she whispered. He sighed angrily, tossing his papers on his desk.

“Don’t. Don’t try to make this better. Don’t try to make this not hurt me. You took advantage of me, you knew I would be able to say no to you and you did it anyway.” She began to cry. She covered her mouth with her hand. He crossed his arms and watched her, his eyes sharp and wounded.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated, leaning against the desk. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head.

“Tirnella, I can forgive you for all of this, but not right now. I need time,” he said quietly. “I need time, and I need you to leave.”

“Do you love me?” she blurted out stupidly, selfishly. Cullen’s lower lip trembled and he turned away from her.

“Have a safe journey tomorrow,” was all he said. She choked back the sob she could feel pressing on her throat and practically sprinted back to her quarters. With a guttural cry she sank to the stone floor and remained there until morning, when Sera and Cassandra came to collect her for their mission. She didn’t say a word as they left Skyhold, the only thought racing through her head was that Cullen was not among those who came to say goodbye to them that morning.

Wracked with guilt and regret, she soldiered on, determined to focus on the task at hand. It was a simple mission in the Western Approach, just to check in on their holdings and explore the areas the Inquisition had taken weeks to create access to, but she was tired of failing. She was tired of crying – whether or not Cullen forgave her mattered far less than if her Inquisition forgave her. Fear and trepidation aside, she was filled with renewed zeal for her cause. She fought like a madman, cutting down Venatori quicker than her team could keep up with. She collected coin and herbs for her people, established two new camps, and freed a batch of slaves from an enemy camp. By the time she went to sleep each night, she was too worn out to worry or cry, she slept deeply and completely, only to repeat the same work the next day. After six days, she began to feel some sense of redemption. Cass was able to look at her again without frowning, and Dorian talked to her at dinner with a kindness and gentleness that could only mean she had earned his approval back. However, they warmed to her with a depressing amount of hesitation, and Nell realized how far the depths of her two week long sabbatical from sanity had gone. Still, she felt less hopeless than she had in days. On night seven, she found herself thinking of Cullen again, and her progress melted away as she cried quietly to herself a few yards from camp.

“Come on now, little one, there’s no need for that,” a voice behind her said. She jumped and hastily wiped her cheeks. Dorian plopped down onto the sand beside her, squinting at the setting sun. “What is troubling you?” he asked kindly.

“I’ve ruined everything. I’ve lost my friends, I’ve lost Cullen, I’ve lost the trust of my people. I am so afraid I’ve done irreparable damage,” she cried. Dorian put his arm around her shoulders.

“Nothing based in love is ever irreparably damaged, my dear. Your friends are your friends, and though I cannot speak for Cassandra or Varric or Solas or any of the others, I know they will forgive you. They worry for you, constantly, and they want to be there for you. As for Cullen, you don’t need to worry about that for a minute, he’ll take you back.” Nell sniffled.

“I’m not so sure,” she muttered. Dorian raised one eyebrow. “I did an awful thing to him.”

“More awful than breaking his heart and turning him away when you so obviously needed help, leaving him to worry himself sick about you from a distance? You know he talked with me every single day? And all he could ask about was you; if you were doing okay, if I was watching out for you. He knows you’re only doing this because you’re in pain, but he doesn’t know why.”

Nell shook her head, new tears spilling over. “I slept with him, the night before we left,” she admitted. “We’d been drinking, I saw him at the tavern with some girl and I… I just… He sent me away afterwards. He couldn’t even look at me. I am such a foolish, selfish asshole. I don’t know what came over me.”

Dorian nodded thoughtfully, his eyebrows knitted as he considered what she had said. “He will forgive you.”

“How do you know?” she asked. Dorian smirked a little, then reached into his pocket and withdrew a letter. Nell’s heart nearly stopped in her chest. She lurched to grab it but he held it out of her reach.

“Tirnella, promise me if you are feeling this way again you’ll come to us for help instead of biting at us like a caged cat,” he said firmly. Nell nodded, crying again.

“I promise.”

He placed the letter in her shaking hands, then stood to give her privacy. When he was far enough away, she tore the wax seal apart.

_Tirnella,_

_I’ve asked Dorian to give you this letter because I trusted he would know when you were ready to read it._

She felt a knot in her stomach and she took a deep breath, preparing for the worst.

          _Firstly, let me begin by answering the question you asked me the night before you left: I love you. I will always, always love you._

_Second, despite your very best efforts to push me away, I want you to know how desperately I have missed you, and continue to miss you._

_You, my dear, have seen me at my darkest. Now, I have seen you at yours. Please, if you will allow me, I would love to be there to care for you – to protect you. If you wish me to be your friend, though it will pain me to do so, I will be your friend. If, however, you wish to continue where we left off, come home to me. Come home to me and I will welcome you with open arms. I will do everything in my power to prevent you from ever suffering as you have these past few weeks._

_I love you now, I love you forever._

_Yours always,_

_Cullen_

          Tears were streaming down her face but she was smiling. She raced back to camp, startling an unsuspecting party. Dorian smiled knowingly, but Cassandra cocked her head to the side questioningly.

          “Inqu- _oof._ ” Nell cascaded into Cassandra, knocking her backwards a step.

          “Cass, I’m so sorry I’ve been such a shit,” Nell said, her arms clasped tightly around Cassandra’s waist. Cass chuckled and patted her back.

          “You are forgiven,” she said simply.

          Nell was practically shaking with excitement at the prospect of heading back to Skyhold and seeing Cullen – she wanted so badly to have things back to normal. She felt like herself again, finally. She was nervous and guilty and thrilled and terrified all at once. Her group, relentlessly patient and understanding as they were, agreed to end their mission after only another two days.

          She and her companions mounted their horses and sped towards the mountains, each of them eager to be home again. For Tirnella, it was sometimes hard to not resent the Inquisition for everything she must endure to keep it alive. It was the Inquisition, however, that also gave her a reason to fight. It was the Inquisition that gave her purpose, along with her friends and the man she adored. She felt like an idiot for hurting him so, and the more she read his letter, the more she felt undeserving of his adoration. She vowed to never let herself believe she was a burden to him again, though she knew it was bound to happen regardless of her fleeting high of determination. She knew, in her heart, that the overwhelming fear and pain would return, but she also knew she could never risk losing her family again. It was with an emotional heart that she trudged on to Skyhold, and she refused to stop until she could see the gates.

          And, after what felt like a century of travel, she did.

          She remained as composed as she could, greeting her soldiers with a smile and a salute. She nodded to those who had paused to watch her party return, receiving slightly surprised, yet pleasant smiles in return. Her heart leapt into her throat when she realized her advisors had gathered just beyond the gates. She wanted to look at Cullen, but she was afraid. What if he’d changed his mind? It had been over a week since he’d written the letter. What if while she’d been gone he realized he wouldn’t forgive her? She took deep, steadying breaths, busying herself with inspecting her fingers. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a gloved hand take her reigns and stop her horse. She lifted her eyes to Cullen’s, who smiled nervously. He put his hands on her hips and lifted her easily, setting her on the ground beside him. He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them softly.

          “Inquisitor. I trust you had a safe journey?” he asked. Nell nodded a little too enthusiastically.

          “I was hoping we could talk later,” she whispered back, wanting so badly to kiss every inch of his face. He nodded and smiled.

          “Tonight, I’m yours.”

He grinned at her before stepping back to stand with the other advisors, his hands resting on the pommel of his sword.

 

          Nell paced in her quarters. The sun was setting over the mountains and she had expected Cullen to come see her almost an hour before, but there was no sign of him. It wasn’t until the sky had turned an inky black that she heard his footsteps coming up her stairs. Her heart fluttered and she wrung her hands nervously. He appeared at the top of the stairs.

          “Cullen-” Before she could finish, he was there, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her. Her lips sought his, kissing him tenderly, desperately, softly. He held her tightly against his muscular chest, his fingers stroking down her back. She felt tears spill over and her lower lip trembled. He set her down, taking her face in his hands and stroking her cheeks.

          “I love you,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to hers for one more moment.

          “I love you, I’m so sorry, Cullen, I-” He put his finger on her lips, silencing her.

          “Shh. I know. I forgive you, Nell, and frankly, the last thing I want to do right now is talk. Let’s talk in the morning, or even later tonight, but I went weeks without you and I won’t wait another second,” he said, squeezing her fingers.

          She laughed and nodded, drying her eyes. With a weak smile, she put her arms around his neck and pressed in close to him. “Will you hold me?” Without another word, he slipped his arm behind her knees and lifted her, carrying her to the couch.

          “I’ll do anything you ask me of me,” he replied, kissing her cheeks and forehead.

          They spent the evening in each other’s arms, talking softly about Nell’s trip, sometimes going long periods saying nothing, only kissing each other reverently, as if it had been years. Cullen made her a fire and they pulled her blankets and pillows off the bed, lying together on the rug.

          They made love for hours, stopping every once in a while to just talk, or to hold one another. Tirnella and Cullen were covered in a thin layer of sweat, their legs shaking from exertion. Cullen was holding himself up on his elbows, his forehead pressed against hers, his hand gripping her thigh as he moved inside her slowly, wanting to prolong it for as long as he could. Tirnella writhed and gasped beneath him, her hands clasped on the back of his neck.

          “I love you, Cullen,” she whispered. He grinned, holding her leg up by the back of her knee, his thrusts gathering speed.

          “Then come for me,” he murmured, his lips tracing the edge of her jaw.

          When they had finished, Cullen rolled to his back beside her, panting with exertion. She curled up against his chest, sighing happily.

          “Cullen, I…” She hesitated, feeling nervous again. He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “I think we need to talk about everything.” Cullen nodded, putting his arms around her.

          “Tell me anything,” he replied.

          So she did. They talked until the sun had risen, Nell hardly pausing for breath as she explained how she had been feeling. She held nothing back, and he listened quietly, only interrupting when she cried, taking a moment to kiss her cheeks. When she had finally said everything she needed to, Cullen took her in his arms and held her tightly, stroking her hair.

          “Tirnella, why didn’t you tell me any of this?” he asked quietly. She shrugged.

          “I was afraid – of… of everything,” she said lamely. “But I’m not afraid anymore, or at least I’m less afraid. Cullen, forgive me for what I did to you. I’m so sorry.”

          Cullen chuckled. “For once, I’m the one assuring you. How strange this feels.” She rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder lightly. “I forgive you, Nell.”

          Nell nuzzled against his shoulder. “I missed you so much, Cullen.”

          “Maker, I’ve missed you too. Poor Dorian suffered the brunt of my misery these past few weeks. He and Captain Rylen, that is.” Nell stiffened. She’d almost forgotten about the night she’d seen Cullen and Rylen in the tavern – almost forgotten about the woman Cullen had been with. Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Something wrong?” Nell brushed it off, but when Cullen did not relax, she confessed.

          “I saw you in the tavern with a woman,” she admitted. “I thought… I thought you were _with_ her.” Cullen’s eyes widened, then he sighed.

          “I thought that had something to do with you coming to my quarters that night,” he replied. “Let me be absolutely clear – it’s not what it looked like at all.”

          “Then who is she?” Nell’s voice was quiet and timid. Cullen smiled, taking her face in his hands.

          “Her name is Mia,” he said. “Mia Rutherford.”

          Nell’s jaw dropped and her eyes went wide. “Your _sister_ is in Skyhold?” she hissed. “Now?” She lurched to her feet and Cullen caught her hand.

          “Don’t panic, please, I hadn’t intended on her arrival being so ill timed. I wrote to her the night you…” he cleared his throat and began again. “She traveled here to be with me, I was struggling without you. Her visit was as much a surprise to me as it was to you. Please, Nell, she has no ill feelings towards you or our relationship.”

          Nell slowly lowered herself back down to her knees, chewing her lip nervously. Cullen held her hands firmly. “I would like you to meet her, when you’re ready.” Nell squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply.

          “Whenever you want, Cullen. I’m ready.”

          Cullen smiled genuinely and Nell’s nerves eased slightly. They slept on the floor like that, and when they awoke, sore and incredibly stiff, Nell groaned and whined with gumption.


	18. Where in the World is General Samson?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tirnella recovers from emotional upheaval, and meets an in-law. The Inquisition has tracked down Samson, and Cullen is determined to have his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Brief mention of food. Brief depiction of drinking.

          Nell paced in front of her desk, fidgeting anxiously with the chain around her neck. She’d been doing that for most of her morning, though it had done very little to ease her thoughts as they raced in and out of her head. The sun was barely above the mountains and Nell knew dinner wouldn’t be too much longer, though the wait seemed agonizing. This dinner in particular had her very much on edge, as she was set to meet Cullen’s older sister, Mia. Coming only two days after her and Cullen’s reconciliation, the timing was poor, to say the very least. Cullen assured her Mia carried no ill will towards Nell, but the knowledge his sister had been in her fortress for the majority of her struggling was disquieting. Cullen had been so wounded, she wondered what he had said that made her come so suddenly, especially given that the two hadn’t seen each other in years.

          With a dramatic sigh, Tirnella looked at herself in the mirror, poking and prodding at her face. She looked tired, but with a little help from Josephine, and some expertly placed rouge and lip color, her appearance was passably pretty. When it was time to leave, she took one last deep breath before heading off.

          Mia and Cullen were waiting at a table in the center of the Great Hall, which had been emptied and prepared specifically for their use. Nell’s boots clicked on the stone floor of the unusually quiet room, and Mia and Cullen’s soft conversation stopped. Two pairs of light eyes turned to Nell, who smiled in a way she prayed looked natural and not like she was about to vomit. Cullen rose to his feet, followed by Mia, who bowed slightly to Nell.

          “Inquisitor, it is an honor,” Mia said kindly. Nell flashed a glance at Cullen, who laughed.

          “Don’t look at me, I told her not to,” he quipped. His sister rolled her eyes.

          “In the presence of someone so important and respected, addressing you by your title is the least I can do,” Mia replied, raising a blonde eyebrow at her brother. Nell watched her face curiously, noting the similarities between her and Cullen. Mia had light hair like his, though significantly more curly. Messy ringlets framed her face sweetly, making her appear younger than she was.

          “Please, here there is no need for that. You are, after all, not an average guest,” Nell said, surprised at the steady tone of her voice. “It is I who am honored to meet you, Mia. I’ve heard so much about you.” Mia laughed loudly.

          “Maker’s breath, dear, you should see the letters on my desk about you!”

          Nell and Mia both glanced at Cullen, who was suddenly as red as the wine he was sipping, pretending not to hear either of the two women’s chiding. Nell was feeling significantly more relaxed and motioned for them to sit. Cullen filled her cup with wine and she felt his hand squeeze her thigh under the table. She smiled at him.

          “You’ll have to forgive me for not meeting you sooner, I know you’ve been in Skyhold a few weeks now, and I regret my neglect, especially given you’ll be leaving tomorrow morning,” Nell said apologetically. Mia waved her hand.

          “From what Cullen has told me you are the busiest woman in Thedas. I’m happy you were able to be here at all,” she replied. Nell sighed, relieved, and she felt Cullen squeeze her thigh again, reassuringly. “Besides, I expect myself, Branson, and Rosalie will all be visiting within a year anyway.”

          “Of course, you’re welcome in Skyhold any time, but may I ask why a year, specifically?” Nell asked. Mia laughed and sipped her wine, while Cullen stared at his plate with intense concentration.

          “No reason to go more than a year without seeing my brother, now that I’ve tracked him down. And I expect there will be many celebrations in Skyhold’s future.”

          Nell glanced between the two Rutherfords, but decided not to press further when she noticed how furiously red Cullen’s cheeks had turned.  The rest of the dinner proceeded pleasantly, with a great deal of laughter. Mia asked Tirnella a million questions, and Nell answered them all happily, finding the woman quite easy to talk to. Cullen mostly listened, watching Nell with a mix of pride and amusement as she chattered about the places she’d traveled.

          Mia took a drink of wine, smiling at Cullen fondly. “So, tell me, Tirnella, is my brother a good Commander? He always was a bossy thing as a child,” she said, winking at her brother, who rolled his eyes. Nell giggled.

          “Well he is headstrong and determined, but I think that’s part of his charm,” she said. “And he is, for the record, an extraordinary leader,” she added in a softer tone.

          “Now I know you’ve had too much to drink,” he said jokingly, making Mia elbow him in the ribs.

          “You had better be nice to her, she’s saving the world for us,” Mia scolded. “Speaking of, I do believe a good night’s rest is in order, for all of us.”

          The three stood and stretched their stiff legs, all a little wobbly on their feet. When they went to depart, Mia hugged Tirnella tightly; she took Nell’s hands in hers and led her a few steps away from the table, out of Cullen’s hearing range.

          “I wanted to thank you, Tirnella, before I lost my chance.”

          “Thank me?” Nell asked quizzically. Mia’s eyes grew slightly misty and she nodded.

          “For saving him. For everything you have done to support him. I have not been there for much of his life, and that hurts me deeply. I am grateful you have brought him happiness after everything the Order did to him,” Mia whispered. She squeezed Nell’s hands, and Nell squeezed back.

          “I- I… well, I can’t imagine it was easy to think kindly of me after what I did before you arrived,” Nell said sadly. Mia shook her head.

          “My dear, love is never easy, but it is valuable when it is real. You both will endure hardships again – how you face them will define you.”

          Nell smiled, relieved. “Visit again soon, and bring the entire family with you next time,” she replied, grinning. Mia hugged her once more before leaving for her quarters. Cullen leaned against the table, wine goblet dangling loosely from his fingers.

          “What did she say to you?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. Nell chuckled and shrugged.

          “If she wanted you to know we wouldn’t have whispered,” she shot back, making Cullen groan.

          “Maker preserve me, I hadn’t considered your trouble-making would only be doubled when you two were together.” He slid his arm around her waist and the two walked up the stairs together. Nell hadn’t realized how much wine the two of them drank until Cullen stumbled slightly going up the steps, then broke out into a fit of laughter. Nell laughed with him, leaning tiredly on the wall as she waited for him to collect himself.

          Suddenly, she blurted, “What did your sister mean when she said they would all be visiting within a year?” Cullen stopped laughing and righted himself, rolling his muscular shoulders. He closed the space between them, touching the tip of his nose to hers, and running his strong hands down her slender forearms.

          “Because, my Lady, soon you will defeat Corypheus, and restore peace to Thedas. When you do, you and I will have nothing more to worry about but our own happiness, and I imagine we will make a great deal of it. Families often share happiness together,” he said softly as he tilted her face up towards his. Nell’s heart fluttered and she found herself unable to say anything except a quiet “oh?” Cullen nodded proudly. “And perhaps if I am very, _very_ lucky, you’ll always be a part of my family.” Nell raised one eyebrow.

          “Wait, are you asking me to marry you right now?” she asked, half hoping and half terrified that he was. Cullen smirked.

          “Not yet, my love; when I do, you will know,” came his reply. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, tasting of wine and a drunken boyish passion she found intoxicatingly sweet.

 

          When the sun rose, so did Cullen. Nell watched sleepily him from the bed, her eyes trailing after him as he fluttered around her quarters looking for all the pieces of his armor. He fetched a tunic from a stack of a few clean ones he’d left on top of her wardrobe. She frowned as he hurried to dress himself in _her_ quarters, a feat which was not easy when everything had to be placed out of the way. As she watched him, she thought of his simple, cold tower with a hole in the ceiling and she felt a pang of guilt. She sat up and shivered in the cold room, their fire from the night before long extinguished. Cullen, now dressed and in his armor, sat on the edge of the bed. He kissed her lightly.

          “My sister leaves in an hour or so, I’m going to meet her now, for a last goodbye.” His face grew sad and he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Nell put her hand on his cheek.

          “I am sorry, Cullen, I know being apart from your family has been difficult. I will be with you to see her off, but for now enjoy your time together,” Nell said. Cullen put his hand over hers, he peered at her face, considering her features, his brow furrowed. After a moment, he broke from his stupor, kissed her one last time, and was gone.

 

Mia Rutherford’s exit was quiet, with no fanfare or large gathering to see her off. Cullen held her tightly for several minutes, and when he helped her on her horse, Nell noticed the gleam in both of their eyes. Nell, who had received her own tearful hug from Mia, also felt sad to see her go.

“Safe journey, Sister. Send word the moment you arrive home,” Cullen said sternly. Mia scoffed.

“Listen to you, a proper Commander! Don’t let your authority go to your head, it’ll turn you grey,” Mia said, ruffling his hair, making him grumble good naturedly. Nell stepped forward and handed Mia her reigns. With one last goodbye, she was headed through the gates and into the mountains. Cullen rubbed his face, sighing, and Nell leaned against him, taking his gloved hand in hers.

“I sometimes wonder what it was like, watching me leave for Templar training. I imagine it felt something like this,” Cullen mused, squinting at Mia’s shrinking silhouette. When she was completely gone from sight, Cullen straightened his back, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I must return to my office, I’m quite behind already,” he said sharply, turning to go. Nell, startled by his abrupt departure, reached for his hand. He pulled it back. “Now is not the time, Inquisitor, people are watching.”

          Nell stood, perplexed and embarrassed, as he headed for the steps to his office, not pausing for a glance behind as he left. She spent the next hour wondering desperately what she’d done to deserve that reaction, but found no evidence of wrong-doing. Eventually, she relinquished her fears, and her thoughts turned elsewhere.

          She wandered around her quarters, wrapped in her thick blanket, her cold bare feet aching on the stone floor. With the flurry of emotions abating temporarily, she suddenly felt like her limbs were made of stone, and she heaved herself onto her bed with a tremendous groan. She looked up at her ceiling, pondering for the first time in days what had almost happened in that bed. Her stomach turned uneasily as she considered the consequences of her hypothetical assassination. With her gone, The Inquisition would crumble from the top down, she was positive. With her mark unusable, Corypheus would proceed unhindered. She pictured the gruesome remains on her bedroom floor – the stone had since been thoroughly scrubbed and no stain remained – and her eyes involuntarily snapped shut, as if closing her eyes would remove the image from her mind.

          In truth, Tirnella feared how powerful she had become. She clearly had great abilities, and the magic pulsating though her mark was capable of devastation without her knowledge or control. She shivered, clasping her left hand to her chest and clenching it into a tight fist. Despite the horror of her unchecked magical abilities, her influence frightened her as well. Her eyes flickered around her stone bedroom, the tall castle walls seemingly existing only to keep her alive. With the wave of her marked hand, thousands would march in her name. She could order enemies executed – she could topple entire countries. The weight, it seemed, would not lift from her shoulders without more effort, and perhaps a few extra helping hands.

By nightfall, Nell was sleepy and tired of waiting up in her quarters so she could stew on her worries. Cullen had made no effort to reach out to her all day, and it was past dinnertime, with no sign he would be joining her bed that evening. Dejected, she slid under her bed sheets and curled up. Her fire was already dimming and she knew she would regret letting it get so low, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, so she shivered stubbornly instead.

Later, though she was not sure how much, she was awoken by the sensation of someone touching her back. Fearing another intruder, she jerked upright, gasping in surprise. In the darkness, the figure reached for her.

“Tirnella, it’s me, it’s Cullen. I’m so sorry to wake you, I didn’t realize how late it was.” Nell softened, sinking back to her pillows. With a bitter disposition she noticed he’d rebuilt her fire, which was now burning hot on the other side of the room. She crossed her arms in irritation and faced the opposite wall. Cullen nestled in behind her, his hand on her hip. “You’re upset.”

“Obviously.”

“Why are you upset, Nell?” Cullen asked, his voice annoyingly compassionate. Nell rolled on her back in a huff.

“To be fair, I’m probably more irritated you startled me than anything else,” she said. Cullen chuckled and pulled her tighter against him.

“Forgive me, I would’ve been here sooner, but I lost track of time,” he replied. “But I’d rather come in late and make you angry with me than stay away and not wake up next to you.” With this, he pressed a light kiss to the side of her head and she groaned loudly.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” she accused. He laughed again, positioning himself above her on his elbows.

“Doing what?” He kissed her cheek, down her jaw, and down her throat, making her heart beat faster.

“Placating me with kisses,” she grumbled, though she made no move to push him away.

“Well, is it working? Do you feel better?” he asked playfully. Nell bit back a smile.

“No.” Cullen laughed out loud, rolling on to his back.

“Alright, if that’s what you want, I’ll sleep on the far side of the bed, where you can’t touch me with your freezing feet.” In an instant Nell was perched atop his hips, pinning him down. He jumped, smirking at her. “Andraste’s ass, sometimes I forget how agile you are.” She smiled proudly, leaning forward to purposely expose her chest as her loose night shirt hung down. Cullen swallowed and his eyes flickered downward.

“Perhaps you need a reminder of how…flexible I can be, too,” she whispered in his ear. He exhaled quickly, and Nell felt a hardness between her legs that hadn’t been there moments before. Her smile widened. Cullen moved in a flash, flipping them. She gasped as he gripped the back of her knees and lifted her, angling his hips between her thighs, rubbing against her slowly.

“Will you move in with me?”

She wasn’t sure where the question came from, or why she’d half shouted it in his ear while he had been kissing her neck, but it was out now and she had to brace for his answer. He sat up on his knees, looking down at her in confusion. She stared back in horror, her hands covering her mouth. “I – I’m sorry I don’t know why… I mean, I – um… Will you? Move your quarters here, I mean. Live….with me.” Her rambling sentence trailed off and Cullen continued to stare. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. “Maker, Cullen please say _something_.”

Cullen leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers, gently and reverently exploring her lips, tracing his tongue across hers. He kissed her for a long time, teasing small groans from the back of her throat. Finally, he spoke.

“I was hoping you would ask me,” he murmured against her skin. “Yes, Nell, I will. How soon would you have me?”

“Tomorrow?” she said.

“Then tomorrow it shall be.”

 

Cullen did not have many personal items to move, and the process took remarkably few minutes. All he brought was a trunk full of his clothes, and armor and weapon stands, taking up a grand total of one single corner of Nell’s quarters. He appraised his belongings with a smile on his lips, a bit of sweat soaking through the thin white tunic he wore while he had lugged his belongings across Skyhold. Nell was seated on her desk, watching him brush dust off his armor as he adjusted its position on the rack.

“Is this okay?” he asked her timidly, gesturing to the tiny space his things took. Nell laughed.

“Cullen, this is your bedroom now, too. You don’t have to ask permission to have your stuff in here,” she said. He smiled warmly, brushing sweaty hair off his face.

“Hmmm, they say this is the point where we begin to drive each other mad,” he said, coming to stand in front of her. She uncrossed her legs and used her ankles to hook around his thighs and pull him closer.

“Commander, if you can survive me siding with the Mages and I can survive your endless over-protection, we can’t possibly annoy each other more,” she teased. He scoffed.

“I handled your decision with grace and respect.”

“You yelled at me, actually. More than once.”

His smile faded and he grimaced, taking her hands in his. “I wouldn’t call it _yelling_ , necessarily,” he said, wounded. Nell gave him a reassuring grin.

“I did my best to get under your skin, I think I deserved your irritation,” she mused.

“Well, you succeeded in getting under my skin, but I do quite enjoy the sensation,” he told her, kissing the side of her face. She giggled.

“A very strange way to tell me you love me, but I’ll accept it.”

The two of them took immense pleasure in ending their work and coming to the same bedroom, despite that having been their routine for months already. They were almost giddy to be in their own space, and their bed felt different than it had before, a fact they delighted in, keeping the Inquisitor and the Commander up until nearly dawn talking.

Cullen, despite their late night, left early the next morning, and Nell was disappointed to find him gone when she woke. With a heavy sigh, she sat up, finding herself uneager to begin her day and face her job. As she sluggishly dressed herself, her mind wandered to her companions. She thought of Sera, who was by far The Inquisition’s most difficult to read. Sera, however, was seemingly unshaken by her desire to change her world, and unhindered by fear. Nell envied her, if she was honest. Without really considering what she would ask her, Nell set off to the tavern to visit Sera, hoping she could identify the worry sitting in the bottom of Nell’s belly.

“Oh, Her Worship herself finally slinks over for a visit!” Sera said in a dramatic sing-song voice when she spotted Nell climbing the tavern staircase. Nell grumbled and pulled Sera in for a somewhat awkward hug.

“I’m trying something new,” Nell said, shrugging.

“And what’s that, fancypants?” Sera laughed, crossing her long, thin arms.

“Actually trying.”

Sera cackled and motioned for Nell to follow her to her room. They sat on the cushions on the sunlight, sipping sweet pink wine that made Tirnella’s stomach warm. She and Sera got along well; with a pang, she realized how much she’d neglected their friendship. She apologized, which Sera waved off sarcastically, but it made Nell feel better to have said it.

After over an hour of lighthearted joking and chatter, Nell found herself staring into her wine glass, frowning. Sera nudged her knee with her bare foot.

“Calling the Inquisitor, anyone seen her?”

Nell jumped. “How do you keep yourself from losing yourself in what you do, Sera? You take care of people, you fight for them, and alongside them. How does it not weigh you down?” she finally said. Sera pondered for a moment, her freckled nose wrinkling as she considered.

“It doesn’t. Not weigh, I mean. It does – a whole lot,” she replied, her accent thick and lilting.

“And you care about the people you work in service of?”

“Obviously.”

“And it doesn’t suffocate you?”

“Sometimes it feels like it…” Sera said thoughtfully. “You have to keep what matters most the closest; and even when it feels selfish, you gotta take care of yourself, otherwise you lose control of the whole bit.”

Nell sighed deeply. “You know, Sera, this conversation feels like taking care of myself.” Sera laughed and tossed her a cookie from the plate between them. Nell caught it and dramatically took a bite before gagging ceremonially. Sera giggled harder.

“That’s what friends do, ya big tit!” she said through snickers. The pair continued their visit well past midday, getting more than a little tipsy, and when they departed and Nell returned to her quarters feeling slightly more peaceful. It was a welcome relief. She realized, as she climbed the endless stairs to her room, that some comfort could only be found in the women that surrounded her, and that made her feel just the smallest bit safer.

 

That afternoon, Tirnella was summoned for a War Council meeting, one she wasn’t expecting. She made her way to the meeting room, bracing herself for whatever waited at the end of the long hallway.

“Inquisitor, thank you for allowing me to interrupt your day,” Cullen said as she took her spot at the War Table. Nell shrugged.

“I did have some pretty important plans, Commander, but I suppose I have the time,” she joked. Cullen’s face twitched in amusement but he barreled forward without stopping.

“We found Samson, Inquisitor, he is in the Shrine of Dumat. If you’re ready, we can march on the Shrine tomorrow,” he said excitedly.

“We?” she asked. Cullen stood up straighter, gripping his sword.

“I will be accompanying you on this mission, Inquisitor. I wish to face Samson alongside you,” he said decidedly. Nell crossed her arms.

“Commander, I do believe that is my decision, and I don’t think you coming along is wise,” Nell said. Leliana cleared her throat.

“I would prefer if we could defer the inevitable argument you are about to have until our meeting is finished,” she said. Her tone was only partly joking, so Cullen and Nell swallowed the retort they’d been about to make and stayed quiet.

“Regardless of who accompanies you, Inquisitor, this mission is a delicate one. We must be very careful with how we proceed. I’ve prepared reports for you to read, when you feel you’re ready, summon us and we will begin,” Leliana said. Nell nodded, taking the stack of parchment from her extended hand. “You will also note we have located the source of your assassination attempt. A gift from General Samson, as expected; it seems you are making him nervous enough to act carelessly.”

“An expensive gift, though I can’t say I enjoyed receiving it. Thank you, Leliana, for finding answers so quickly.” The Spymaster bowed her head slightly, before nodding over to Josephine, who presented Nell with a separate stack of parchment.

 “My reports, Inquisitor,” she said softly. “You have many allies who will stand behind you when the time comes. Take as many people with you as you can to the Shrine of Dumat, this must be done with care.”

The meeting was brief, and Cullen, much to his credit, waited until they were all the way inside their bedroom before he made a sound. He stood at the top of her stairs, watching her remove her gloves and warm her hands by the fire. She could feel his nervous energy from the other side of the bedroom.

“Alright, you can plead your case, Cullen, you’ve been patient,” she said quietly. Cullen sprang forward.

“I will be going with you tomorrow, this mission is too important and too close to me to remain in Skyhold. I hope you’ll understand why I want this so badly,” he said urgently. Nell sighed.

“Cullen, this trip will be more dangerous than others –”

“All the more reason I would feel better if I were at your side.”

“I mean… Maker, Cullen, I mean dangerous for _you_ ,” she said. Cullen paused.

“For me?” he asked. She crossed her arms.

“Cullen, that temple will be covered in red lyrium. Everything we fight will be made of it. Can’t you see why I would prefer you not be dragged anywhere near that?”

He stiffened. “You don’t think I am capable of maintaining control?”

“No, I think putting your body through that is a risk we don’t need to take. I’ve fought hundreds of fights miles away from you, why would this one go differently?”

Cullen came to her side, squeezing her shoulders. “And I’ve spent all that time stuck here waiting for word that you’re still alive. At least this way I’ll be beside you in battle, watching you win. _Please_ , Tirnella, I need to do this with you. Samson tried to have you murdered, I will not see that go unpunished.”

Nell’s resolve crumbled and she frowned. “Fine, but if I feel even for a second that you’re in danger, I’m pulling you out of there, do you understand?” she asked in a low voice. Cullen laughed abruptly.

“Mhm, and when I’ve threatened the same, has it ever worked for me?” he teased. She poked his chest sharply.

“I am the Inquisitor, you cannot send me away. I, however, can do whatever the hell I want, and you will take care of yourself and listen to my advice or I’ll tie you to a tree at camp and leave you behind.”

He grinned warmly, kissing her on the mouth. “Thank you, I promise I will,” he assured her.

“Cullen?”

“Yes?”

“I mean it, no risks. And no… touching anything,” she said seriously. Cullen rolled his eyes.

“Listen to you – ‘no risks’ – what kind of nonsense is that? As if that has _ever_ worked on you in the past.”

Nell and Cullen stayed up far too late laboring over the reports and maps they’d been given, and it was strangely exhilarating to be working so closely together. Normally their jobs were less entwined, but planning the specifics of their trip and method of attack was new, and they were surprisingly good at it. With Tirnella’s boldness (verging on reckless), and Cullen’s measured strategizing, the pair had put together an assault plan that would cripple Samson if carried out correctly. Eventually the sky eventually began to lighten, signaling dawn was not far off, and the couple shuffled tiredly to bed, knowing full well they had only a few hours before they would set their plans to action.

Tirnella, of course, couldn’t help but worry as she watched Cullen pack his bag and climb on his horse, setting off alongside her toward Samson’s keep. The red lyrium affected her, as a mage, and she was dreading the nausea and anxiety it instilled in her. Compared to how nasty being near it made her feel, she couldn’t imagine the misery it would inflict on Cullen.

Misery, however, was not her primary concern. No, she feared temptation far worse. She gritted her teeth, hoping his resolution was strong enough to keep his craving at bay long enough to get in and back out. Having only ever known Cullen without lyrium, she felt apprehensive at the possibility of his regression back to his Templar self. It was impossible to predict what he might be like, and she felt guilty for being afraid of seeing him that way. She loved him, she would see him through it, no matter what.


	19. Please Don't Let Me Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen struggles after returning from the Shrine of Dumat. Tirnella finds solace in her companions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Depiction of addiction/withdrawal. Emotional hurt/comfort.

          The journey to the Shrine of Dumat was relatively strife free, aside from the increasingly pervasive and annoying cold. On the first evening of travel, Tirnella, Cullen, Varric, Cassandra, and Dorian made their camp. Everyone unpacked their bag tiredly, no one saying anything besides the occasional, “excuse me”, “could you hand me that?”, and other softly spoken courtesies. Nell tugged her tent from her pack, grunting as she did so. When she paused to wipe her sweaty face, she spotted Cullen doing the same.

          “You… brought a tent?” she asked, walking over to him. He sighed.

          “I thought it would be appropriate, given the tight quarters,” he explained. Nell huffed, annoyed.

          “Cullen, we share a bedroom. Everyone in this camp knows about us,” she snapped. He grimaced.

          “Tirnella, you are over thinking this. I brought it out of consideration for our friends, this is not a slight against you, and frankly we have bigger conflicts to devote our energy to,” he said. As he spoke, he had risen to his feet and took hold of her hands, kneading them softly. “It’s only for a little while, I promise we will survive, and everybody in this camp will thank us for not subjecting them to… Well, you are quite loud.” His voice dropped so low she barely caught it, but his smirk indicated he needed to be swatted on the shoulder, which Tirnella did to distract from her embarrassed smile.

          “I am not,” she muttered defensively before sulking off to finish putting up her own tent. Cullen erected his own much faster, but she had her bed up sooner, and was lounging to the sounds of him cursing and fumbling with the cot. She laughed softly before she finally went to help him.

          When Varric had gotten the fire roaring, the group settled in for a surprisingly enjoyable evening. Even Cullen enjoyed the socializing, drinking just enough to turn his cheeks pink. Varric, who was prodding at the fire with a big stick, gave Cullen a wicked smirk.

          “Anyone want to bet coin on how long these two make it in their very subtle ‘separate tents’?” he asked. Cullen’s eyes widened but Nell laughed loudly.

          “I am a model of self control, I’m not going to be the one sneaking across camp in the dark,” she said casually, making Cullen’s embarrassed eyes flash toward her in betrayal. She winked at him. Cassandra snorted into her wineskin, glancing sideways at Varric.

          “Enough teasing the poor Commander, his elderly heart might quit on him,” Dorian wailed dramatically. Cullen smirked, a little confidence returning.

          “My heart gets plenty of exercise, as do other parts of me,” he replied. All eyes turned towards him and he grinned.

          When the fire had died and everyone had made their way to their tents, Tirnella found herself tossing and turning restlessly in her tent. She stared at her canvas ceiling and wished she was in her soft bed. After almost an hour of stewing, she saw her tent open and a tall figure in the doorway. She sighed.

          “Cullen,” she breathed, glad he’d been unable to keep up his own charade. The figure advanced, and it took Nell less than two seconds to realize it was not Cullen.

          “Apologies for disturbing you rest, your Worship, but General Samson wished to give you his regards,” the figure murmured, lunging for Nell in the darkness. She gritted her teeth and kicked him square in the chest. She heard a strangled huff as he stumbled back, winded. With her next breath she rolled off the cot and to the ground, scrambling under her tent. She could see more attackers in the camp, drawing weapons as they advanced from the trees. As soon as she could muster enough oxygen, she called to her companions, feeling a hand seize her ankles and tug her backwards. Within seconds, her party rallied, each lurching out of their tents almost the same instant, weapons drawn. Nell kicked backwards, clawing her way out of the tent and to her feet. Her attacker, sensing his mission had gone foul, made a run for his group, only for Varric to sink a crossbow bolt directly into the back of his neck with a disgusting squelch. The man dropped to the ground limply. Though they were outnumbered two to one, the group defeated Samson’s soldiers with only mild injury. Nell had some bruising, and Varric had a knife wound on his arm, but everyone else had survived unscathed.

          Cullen wrapped his fingers around Nell’s wrist, turning her towards him. His face was hard, his eyes fixed above her head at the trees. “Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head and sighed.

          “You shouldn’t have killed all of them, we could have questioned one,” Cullen growled. Nell shook her head.

          “No need. ‘General Samson sends his regards’, that’s what he said to me. He knows we’re coming,” she said. Cullen drove his sword into the dirt, snarling.

          “ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed loudly. “How did they find us? We were so careful!” he cried. Nell put her hand on his chest.

          “Cullen, relax. I say we head there now, maybe surprise him. At worst we’ll find information he leaves behind. His soldiers won’t be reporting back, it’s possible killing them bought us some time. All in favor?”

          The group grunted a unanimous agreement, and they packed rapidly, setting off in the darkness towards the Shrine.

 

          Unfortunately, Samson had not been hesitant. The Shrine was in ruins, red lyrium growing from every surface, pulsing and humming continuously. There remained only a few red lyrium corrupted soldiers left to fight, but their presence made everyone feel fatigued and unwell. Nell was sweating hard, her skin sticky from head to toe. She scratched her neck, leaving a smear of Templar blood behind. They fanned out and dug through rubble, hoping to find pieces of information missed in the destruction. Though some documents had been abandoned, it wasn’t much, and Nell felt heavy disappointment as she found yet another burned pile of papers.

          In the final room, they discovered Maddox, dying from his own poison. Tirnella knelt in front of him, pleading, but he refused her mercy.

          “We should give him a proper burial,” Cullen said sadly. “He didn’t deserve to die like this.”

          Tirnella looked at his face for the first time in a while, and she felt a jolt of panic as she noticed she pale pallor of his skin, and the beads of sweat running down his face. His sword was still unsheathed, blood drying on the blade, but his hands were shaking as he held it at his side. Tirnella inspected him closely, making him groan.

          “Tirnella, please, I can’t think with you circling me,” he muttered. She frowned.

          “We need to go,” she said sharply. “There isn’t anything to find, we have Maddox’s supplies and some notes, that’s more than enough to work with. Any more time here is dangerous.”

          Cullen shook his head. “Give me just a few more minutes, Inquisitor, please.”

          “Cullen… I… Fine, but make it quick,” she snapped.

          Cullen nodded turning away from her to search the workshop one more time. His arm ached desperately, and he clenched his fist, trying to prevent it from shaking. He knew why it was hurting, but Tirnella couldn’t find out. He’d been shoving aside shards of red lyrium when a sharp edge dug into his forearm, causing a small puncture, drawing blood. There was no way of knowing how much of the red lyrium was inside him, or how much he was absorbing as he continued to dig through the refuse, but he had already failed this mission too badly to not exhaust every option they had. He would tell her, he swore to himself, he had to tell her.

          Just not yet.

 

          Despite the painful loss of Samson’s escape, their mission wasn’t fully useless. Nell felt fairly relieved as they headed back towards Skyhold. Everyone had survived, and she and Cullen had made it through the entire Shrine without fighting. She leaned on his shoulder by the camp fire, rubbing his tense upper arm. When her fingers drifted down his forearms, he flinched in pain. Nell looked at him sharply.

          “You’re injured?” she asked. Cullen shook his head.

          “Hardly. Just a small cut, only a little sore. Don’t worry,” he replied. Nell snatched his wrist and pushed his sleeve up. She cursed breathlessly. Cullen’s forearm was an angry bruised red, the small cut in the center of it was the most discolored, with deep red veins bulging around it. Cullen looked at it and swore. “Oh… Shit.”

          “Oh shit is right, what the hell happened, Rutherford?” she snapped.

          “Nell, it’s fine, it will heal.”

          “It’s red lyrium, isn’t it?” she asked. Cullen swallowed hard and nodded.

          “It is. Tirnella, I’m so sorry, I tried to be careful, I really did. It will heal, I promise,” he said urgently. Tirnella shook her head.

          “Cullen, this is _exactly_ what I was worried about. On me this injury is a minor inconvenience. We have no idea what it will do to you,” she said. Cullen sighed sadly.

          “I wish you had more faith in me,” he said. She faltered, her face falling as she sighed. Gently, she tugged his sleeve town over his wound, then she cupped his cheek in her hand, rubbing her thumb under his eye.

          “It will heal,” she affirmed. “And, if I’m lucky, you’ll have a new scar on your arm, and you know what your rugged, battle-worn look does to me.”

          Cullen grimaced. “Maker’s breath, woman, you’re relentless,” he said in a low voice, though his hand squeezed her thigh tightly.

          Much to Tirnella’s chagrin, everyone slept in their own separate tents, and though she was happy to have an uninterrupted sleep, she was too keyed up to fully relax and her dreams were fitful.

          Cullen, however, had not slept at all. Though he had tried to be calm for Tirnella, he felt strange after returning from the Shrine. Despite laying still in his tent for hours, he felt neither tired nor at ease. With a frustrated curse, and a determination to return to Skyhold so he could brood in peace, he was up at dawn and packed before anyone else’s tent had stirred.

          When the group was packed, armored, and atop their horses, they set off for home. Tirnella and Cullen’s horses took the lead, but they said very little to each other as their mounts plodded along through the trees. He warmed slightly upon their return to Skyhold, and even more so when they were finally back in their own quarters and able to embrace without an audience.

          Tirnella insisted on treating Cullen’s wound herself, which made him groan and complain every time she made him sit and roll up his sleeve. Since the first time she saw it, the injury had festered more. The cut itself was healing, but the flesh around it was still red and inflamed. Cullen’s veins were darker and swollen, which made Nell’s nerves uneasy. He flinched as she prodded at it, but when she went to clean it, he tugged his arm away roughly.

          “I think that’s good enough,” he said. She shook her head.

          “Cullen, don’t fight me on this. You have been exposed to something that is dangerous and corrupting, the least we can do is help it heal,” she said softly. His eyebrows furrowed. She knew he was trying his best to seem in control, but that wasn’t the case, so she chose her words carefully. “It is okay if this is affecting you, Cullen. Red lyrium may be different than what you ever had, but it’s only natural if being around so much of it is making things… difficult for you.”

          “I’m fine,” he said sharply. “It was a long trip, can we please go to sleep?”

          “I – um, yes, that’s fine,” she said, collecting her healing kit and putting it back in her desk. Cullen followed and wrapped his arm around her waist.

          “I’m sorry. You’re right, it is affecting me. I am tired, I have missed sleeping beside you. Can we please forget about this for a moment and just rest?” he asked, his voice intentionally gentle. Tirnella softened and leaned back against his chest.

          “That was much nicer,” she said, making him chuckle. They slept soundly, their exhausted bodies pressed up against each other as they snored quietly.

          A few days later, as he sat in his dim office reading dull reports, Cullen picked at the scab from the red lyrium wound. It itched constantly regardless of what he did to it. It also throbbed and ached so badly he could hardly stand it; some days, he would clench his hand into a tight ball until it trembled, wishing he could rip off his arm. The healing process was arduous, and the exposure to red lyrium seemingly extended it beyond Cullen’s patience. In the few days since they had returned from the Shrine, he had been inconsolably cranky, nearly everyone getting on his nerves. It seemed nothing could truly assuage his poor mood. He took some comfort in time spent with Tirnella, but he found himself annoyed even by her, so he worked longer hours, hoping his fog would clear before she noticed his distance. Worst of all, however, was the nearly relentless craving for lyrium. He longed for it in a way he hadn’t in a very long time, and he knew it was from the Shrine. With gritted teeth, he endured, praying he could outlast it.

          Tirnella, however, was feeling more confident than she had in a long while. Though the Shrine of Dumat was invariably a setback, it was not without its benefits. The Inquisition was officially one step away from Samson, and confronting him would come almost soon enough. Though she had not forgotten the feelings about Samson that had overwhelmed her so much, she had learned to rein them in. When she was not sitting on the tavern rooftop with Sera, playing cards with Varric, or sparring with Cassandra and Bull, she was by herself, trying to spend more time listening to her thoughts rather than agonizing over them. In a fit of manic, self-healing energy, she planted a small plot of herbs in the garden, which she tended to happily as her cat languished on a soft patch of grass nearby. Cullen was thrilled to see her so happy, though they had not spent much time together recently; he still slept beside her, but had recently made it a habit to come in long after sunset, barely making her stir as he joined her under the blankets. She didn’t mind too much, she had more than enough to occupy her time and energy.

          Cole, who was possibly more attached to her cat than her, spent many afternoons with Tirnella. They sat on the rug and played cards, though Cole often won as he did not need exceptional skill or perception to know her hands. Most of the time their conversations were as normal as Cole could manage, but several days after their return from the Shrine of Dumat, Cole came into her room. He plopped down on Tirnella’s floor, a puzzled look on his face.

          “What is it?” Tirnella asked, sitting cross-legged across from him.

          “It’s Cullen.”

          “Is something wrong?”

          “No, it’s just… I don’t hear anything.” Tirnella stiffened, excusing herself. She marched diligently to Cullen’s tower. Suddenly, his behavior the past week seemed suspicious, and she had already noted how closely it occurred after their return from the Shrine.

          She threw open his door, making him jump. He was at his desk in full armor, his face lined with tension.

          “Tirnella?” he asked, surprised. She took a long breath, closing her eyes momentarily to ground herself before she spoke.

          “Cullen, are you avoiding me? Because you have been acting strangely lately, and I know you are upset about not catching Samson, and if there is anything you need to tell me –”

          “Tirnella,” he interrupted, stepping forward to put his gloved hands on her shoulders. He squeezed tightly. “I am fine, _we_ are fine. I have been busy.”

          “So you’re…doing alright?” she asked softly. He nodded.

          “Better than usual. I feel like I am growing… stronger. A little irritable perhaps, but… better,” he said. She sighed, relieved, looking around his office, trying to get a feel for what he had been up to while locking himself away.

          Her eyes drifted down to his desk and she realized, for the first time, what was placed in the center of it. Her heart dropped. “Cullen, no… you didn’t,” she breathed. Cullen followed her gaze and dropped his head, guilty. The lyrium kit sat on top of a stack of reports, ready for use. He could’ve taken it any time, there was no way of knowing if he had. Nell’s blood ran cold. _His eyes were bloodshot. Could he already have taken it?_

          “No, I didn’t. I thought about it a lot after our defeat at the Shrine of Dumat But I didn’t. I swear to you, I didn’t,” he promised, closing the box with a snap. Nell reached for the box.

“Why do you have it, Cullen? To torture yourself?” He pulled it out of her reach.

          “Let it go, Tirnella. I didn’t take it, you’ve nothing to worry about.”

          “Cullen, give me the box,” she said gently. “You have no reason to keep this. Give me the box so I can destroy it.” He stared at her for a long time, his face ashen.

          “I want it,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to keep it. I – I know I don’t need it… I just want to have it nearby. A reminder that if the pain becomes too great, I could… I could…” He trailed off. Nell touched his cheek.

          “If the pain becomes too great you come to me,” she said firmly. He looked at her helplessly.

          “Please… Let me keep it, Tirnella,” he mumbled. She chewed her lip nervously, but eventually acquiesced.

          “I trust you. C’mon, it’s late, we can sleep upstairs tonight.”

          The woman he loved, the woman he swore he’d marry, led him up to his loft, to his old bed. He followed her silently. He was quiet still as they undressed, falling into bed together. And he was quiet as she slept beside him, blissfully unaware of his lie.

          He had taken the lyrium. He’d taken it three days after they returned. Months of progress, gone. He felt strange, light, and apathetic. He felt powerful for the first time in months. Nell moved closer in his sleep, but he rolled away from her, his heart beating fast. He knew she would not forgive him when she found out. But at that moment, with the lyrium high still making him feel stable, he did not care if she forgave him.

          She was just a mage. She couldn’t touch him.

          When Nell woke, Cullen was not in bed with her. She frowned, poking her head down the ladder. He was at his desk, already in full armor. His forehead was creased and he looked serious. She slid down the ladder and skipped to his desk. She scooted between him and the paper work, he leaned back in his chair, frowning.

          “Tirnella, please, I’m trying to work,” he said dismissively. Nell’s smile faded.

          “What’s wrong?” she asked. Cullen shrugged.

          “I’m just busy. Come back later tonight, we can talk then,” he said, nudging her off of his desk. Her shoulders slumped and she went to his office door.

          “I love you,” she said softly. He looked up at her, his expression shifting from annoyance to something she couldn’t quite identify. Guilt, or perhaps shame?

          “And I, you,” he said. “Truly. I’m sorry.”

          “Sorry for?”

          “I’m just sorry. I’ll see you later, Nell.”

          Nell shut the door behind her, feeling a very overwhelming urge to cry and run away. She tried to keep her expression controlled until she reached the library, where Dorian greeted her with open arms. She explained the whole story, from start to finish. He sat in his high backed chair, fingers pressed together in front of his mouth.

          “Perplexing. And you say he was fine the night before?” he asked.

          “Well, not entirely. He’s been quiet since we got back. Last night, I found him staring at a lyrium box. But he hadn’t taken it,” she said quickly. Dorian’s well sculpted eyebrows raised.

          “You’re certain?”

          “Of course. I trust him.”

 

          For the next several days, Cullen was even more evasive and cold. He’d canceled their plans to dine together two nights in a row, and Nell was beginning to feel very worried. After two weeks, she couldn’t stand it anymore, and with a great deal of hesitation, Nell did something she never thought she’d have to do. She went to Cole for information.

          “Cole, I need you to do something for me,” she said carefully. “Can you… hear what Cullen is thinking?” she asked, feeling silly for even saying it. Cole nodded slowly.

          “You want to know if he lied to you,” Cole explained. Nell nodded. Cole frowned.

          “I think you should go see him, but don’t knock on the door,” he said. Nell’s face went white and she darted to the door, running straight for Cullen’s office. She threw open the door and her stomach dropped to the floor.

          She didn’t want to believe it. Cullen sat at his desk, looking unusually calm. He watched her enter. The lyrium was on his desk, as if it had always been there. He nodded sternly.

          “So you’ve worked it out then?” he asked simply. Nell choked back tears.

          “No, you swore you didn’t!” she cried. Cullen stood up, looking suddenly much more intimidating than he ever had before. He reached for Nell and she lurched backward, slamming into his bookshelf.

          “Tirnella, you need to calm down,” he told her. She shoved against his chest.

          “How long?” she shouted. He sighed.

          “Three days after we returned from the Shrine of Dumat,” he admitted. Nell whimpered, her breath catching in her chest.

          “You’ve been using your Templar powers, haven’t you? It’s why Cole couldn’t hear you anymore.”

          “You asked Cole to _spy_ on me?” he asked, his voice rising in anger. Tirnella crossed her arms.

          “I wouldn’t have had to if you had told me the truth,” she countered.  “You fucking swore to me you hadn’t taken it! You said that to my face, and I believed it without question.”

          “I know the idea is unpleasant for you, but it’s better this way, Tirnella, you must believe this. I’m still me.”

          “You lied to me. You would have never lied to me, this isn’t you,” she shouted, tears streaming freely now. Cullen frowned. “You can still stop this, you’ve only taken it a few times, you can still go back,” she begged. “It’s me or the lyrium, Cullen, you can’t have both.”

          “Tirnella-”

          “Choose, Cullen, or so help me, I’ll leave right now,” she said fiercely. Cullen stepped backward, looking defeated.

          “I think you should go then.”

          Nell turned to the door, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest. “Inquisitor?” She turned. Cullen regarded her without emotion. “I will send someone tomorrow to collect my things.” She turned away from him again and held her breath until she was standing on the battlements. She heard his door lock behind her and she felt the crushing weight of grief sit firmly on her chest. She barely made it to her quarters before falling apart.

          Cullen sat alone in his armor, his candles burning almost too low to provide any light.

          _It’s me or the lyrium, Cullen, you can’t have both._ He stared at the little blue bottle, its chains around his neck once more. His throat was tight as he remembered the damage he’d done earlier. She was right, he could still go back, but when he sent her away he’d swung the killing blow. _You can’t have both._ Maker help him, he would miss her.

         

          It was days before Nell would look at him. When they spoke in the War Room, she gave her instructions to the table, fingers white as they gripped the edges. Cullen understood, but it irritated him that she couldn’t be professional. When the meetings were over, she spun on her heel and left without hesitation, giving him no chance to approach her. He slinked back to his office, lonesome, but steady.

          It was a week before Cassandra noticed the change. She knocked on Tirnella’s door one morning, worried.

          “He did what?” Cassandra shouted, swearing loudly. Nell flinched and rubbed her swollen eyes, resisting the stinging tears threatening to spill over again.

          “He has decided to continue taking lyrium and has ended our relationship. I haven’t spoken to him in a week, this is all I know,” she repeated curtly. Cassandra shook her head.

          “Believe me, Inquisitor, I’ll do the talking for both of us,” she said darkly before stomping down Nell’s stairs.

          Cassandra found him with the soldiers, running drills as if everything was fine. Cassanda walked right up to him and hit him, full force. He fell backwards, a shocked expression plastered across his face.

          “Cassandra, what the-”

          “You stupid asshole!” she shouted, pointing a gloved finger at him. “You march right to her office this instant and fix this before it goes any further!” she snapped before stomping off.

          Cullen’s soldiers watched in complete shock as the Commander rose to his feet, his lip split and bleeding, his pride wounded.

          “All of you get back to your training!” he growled. They immediately leapt into action, pretending there had been no interruption. Cullen rolled his tense shoulders, looking around angrily to see if he still had anyone watching. His mouth tasted of blood. When his drills ended he headed straight for the comfort of his office. There he could sit in the quiet, with no one around to question him. He could be alone.

          _Alone._

          With a pang, he thought of Tirnella. She must have told Cassandra what he had done, which explained Cassandra’s anger – but to hit him, and in such a public way? That was unusual. Surely Cullen’s relapse was not nearly as upsetting as him being in withdrawal; he and Cassandra were close, but not to the point she would be so devastated at his decision to take lyrium again.

          He sat at his desk, a dull headache spreading. It had been hours since his last dose, and he was already feeling its absence. He was, for the first time since taking the lyrium, feeling scared. The little blue bottle sat before him and he watched it with hate in his eyes. He reached for it, only to find all of the bottles on his desk had been emptied. With a frustrated growl he dug though the drawers looking for more. Instead, his fingers fished out a small box, the sight of which made his gut clench with unpleasant emotions.

          Mia, at his request, had brought the box with her when she traveled to Skyhold. He had told her of what had happened between him and Tirnella, yet as he found himself writing the letter, he was overcome with stubborn hope that she would come back to him. So, he wrote Mia with a plea, a favor more important to him than anything he could ask of her. When he first laid eyes on his mother’s wedding ring after Mia brought it, he felt joy and excitement; now looking at it made him sick with shame.

          He closed the ring box with a snap and practically sprinted to Nell’s quarters, his heart racing in his chest. The weight of his mistake had hit him all at once with a spectacular surge of regret and misery. He longed to see her again, to hold her. Maker, how could he have ever put himself in a position to lose her? How could he do this to them?

          His hand was on her door when he heard her voice.

          “Commander.” He froze. She was not calling him by his title jokingly, or lovingly. It was cold and angry. He turned slowly. She was standing behind him, arms crossed, eyebrows tightly knit. He took a shaking breath.

          “Please, I need to-”

          “I know,” she said firmly. “Come with me.”

          Surprisingly, she did not go to her office, but instead went to the doors to the Great Hall. He followed silently, his cheeks tinged red, his nerves making him shake. When she stopped walking, he registered where they were.

          “The infirmary?” he asked quietly. They were surrounded by beds, almost all occupied. Some were soldiers, recovering from wounds. Others seemed to be ill. Some were dying. Cullen shivered slightly as he heard a young man nearby cry out in pain, his forehead glistening with sweat. A healer sat beside him, wiping his brow, whispering to him.

          “Does this look familiar?” Nell asked quietly. Realization dawned on Cullen and he felt his heart sink. It looked very familiar indeed. “Talk to him,” Nell said, gesturing to the man closest. Cullen approached him nervously. When he got close enough, the man’s hazy eyes settled on him and they brightened.

          “Commander Cullen,” the man croaked. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and crossed his arm over his chest weakly in salute. Cullen returned the gesture.

          “What are you here for?” Cullen asked, though he knew the answer.

          “A group of us have stopped taking lyrium, after we heard you had survived it. You were right, we aren’t Templars any longer,” the man said excitedly. “If you can do it, why not us?” Cullen felt a knot in his stomach. He smiled but it was forced.

          “Very good, soldier. You’ve done well,” he said.

          He couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Nell followed, arms still crossed defensively. Cullen put his hand around Nell’s upper arm and tugged her to a more private spot along the battlements.

          “Why would you put me through that?” he hissed. Nell stared at him with fire in her eyes.

          “Because you need to see what you have done to people; you’ve inspired them.” For a moment, they only looked at each other, chests touching, eyes unblinking. “Cullen, I was afraid of you that day. I never want to feel that way again. You aren’t a Templar anymore, and if you want to be again, I… I’m not sure I want that.”

          It was Cullen who caved first. He sighed and rubbed his face anxiously, his stubbled jaw even more unshaven than normal.

          “I’ve ruined us, haven’t I?” he asked, voice breaking slightly. Nell sighed.

          “That depends on what you do next,” she replied. “I won’t be around lyrium again, Cullen, it frightens me too much. Stop taking the lyrium and come with me to our quarters to talk; if you choose the lyrium, then we will no longer exist as anything but Commander and Inquisitor. Is that clear?”

          Cullen nodded solemnly, tears welling in his eyes. She stilled called it “our quarters”, as if he was welcome back there. He reached for her hands and squeezed them. She returned his gesture. “I choose you. Maker, forgive me for what I’ve done. I’m sorry, Tirnella, I’m so-” She kissed him then. It was abrupt and hard but it was so welcome after a week of being apart. He pulled her against him and held for dear life, his trembling hands tangling in her hair. Her cheeks were wet when they pulled away and he brushed her tears away. “How many times are you going to forgive me before you give up?” he asked, not meeting her eyes.

          “As many times as I want,” she replied stubbornly.

          His face darkened. “You deserve so much more,” he breathed. Nell shook her head.

          “That is not your decision to make, Cullen.” He did not argue any further.

          She took his hand and led him to her quarters. He followed obediently, hardly daring to close his eyes for fear that he was only dreaming. When they reached her room, he paused at the top of the steps. Nell noticed, leaning against her desk, hugging herself tightly.

          “You don’t have to linger, you know,” she said softly. Cullen swallowed hard.

          “Tirnella, I… I know I have no right to request anything of you, but I, um… Well-”

          “Sometime before I grow old,” she teased, going to him and taking his hands.

          “I have not taken lyrium since this morning, and it will not be long before I begin to feel the effects,” he said slowly, his brow knitted together. “Please, don’t let me change my mind. No matter how much I beg, no matter how much pain I’m in, no matter how ill it makes me, do not let me take it.”

          “I won’t, Cullen, I promise,” she said. He growled in frustration and turned away, glaring into the fire flickering in the hearth.

          “You don’t understand, Nell, you weren’t there the first time. The first three nights will likely be the worst, and there is no telling how it will affect me the second time.” He hesitated, grimacing at her. “It could very well kill me, and if it does I want you to let it, do you understand?”

          “You aren’t going to die, Cullen.”

          He swept across the room to her, kneeling in front of her, hands clasped together, as if in prayer. “Listen to me, Tirnella. If it comes to that, if I cannot survive withdrawal, I will not go back again. I will not lose myself, or you, ever again. If I must die to repent for my wrongdoings, then I will.”

          Nell knelt with him. “This isn’t about repentance. If you relapse again, I will help you through it. If you lose yourself, I will find you. You needn’t punish yourself forever, Cullen, it was one mistake. These things take time and work, and you will face this again before it’s really over. Stay with me, I’ll try my best to make you comfortable,” she promised. Cullen breathed unsteadily.

          “Andraste forgive me for the pain I have caused you, and for what is yet to come,” he murmured, bowing his head in prayer. Nell cupped his chin and lifted his face to hers.

          “As the Herald of Andraste, I hereby officially forgive you,” she said, smiling. Cullen’s mouth quirked into the first smile she’d seen in days. She took his face in her hands and kissed him gently, her lips barely grazing his. “I love you, Cullen. Remember that.”

          “I love you, Nell. Maker, I love you so much,” he whispered back, a rush of affection and joy bubbling through his veins as he kissed her, feeling almost close to normal again. When they separated, she meticulously removed his armor for him, kissing his shoulders and arms as she went. He watched her work quietly. She removed his tunic and trousers, leaving him only in smallclothes. He caught her wrist, guiding her hands to his shoulders. Then, he bent and hooked his hands on the back of her knees, lifting her easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to the bed, setting her down reverently before crawling in beside her. For a few minutes, she lay with her head on his chest as he ran his fingers down her back. Finally, she broke the silence.

          “How long do we have before it starts?” she asked. Cullen inhaled deeply.

          “Hours, maybe less,” he replied. Nell pushed herself up on her elbow and looked at him with a frown.

          “So, soon then?”

          “Lyrium is a powerful thing, and the body craves it almost immediately. I’ve only been taking it a little while, but there is no way to predict if it will be better or worse this time,” he explained.

          “What should I expect?”

          “A fever will likely come first, then delirium, hallucinations, nightmares, that sort of thing. I may not know where I am, or who you are, and you must be prepared for that. There is no telling how I could react… Nell, if I hurt you…”

          “You won’t.”

          “How could you possibly know that?”

          Nell chuckled. “Call it a hunch.”

          “Tirnella,” Cullen growled, “we cannot survive on ‘hunches’, that is irresponsible.”

          “If I am not able to handle things, I will call for help. I’m the Inquisitor, there are hundreds of people in this castle whose job it is to protect me. Besides, I’m fairly confident I could take you in a fight.” He smiled halfheartedly at her joke.

          “I am… so sorry for what I’ve done.”

          She brushed his cheek and he leaned into her touch. “You made a mistake, life will go on. Don’t worry, Cullen, we will get through tonight.”

          “And the night after?”

          “We will face that when it comes.”

          With that, the conversation was over, and Nell resumed her place on his chest, listening to the strong beating of his heart, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Soon, she could tell he’d fallen asleep, and she finally was able to relax as well, drifting off almost instantly.

 

          It was clear there was something wrong when she woke to Cullen’s shallow, quick breaths. She was on fire, covered in sweat from being so close to Cullen, who felt like hot coals in bed sheets. She sprang up, pulling the covers off of him. He stirred, moaning and mumbling incoherently.

          “Cullen, can you hear me?” she whispered. He nodded, reaching for his face.

          “My head,” he groaned. “Maker, it hurts.” Nell crouched by his side, gently touching his face.

          “What do you need?” she asked firmly, her instincts switching to something akin to her focus in combat. She felt like a compressed spring, waiting to be released.

          “Water, please. Fresh air.” His voice was strangled and weak. She did as he asked, opening up the doors to the balcony, letting in a rush of freezing air. Cullen groaned again, pushing himself upright, his fingers tugging at his hair. Nell was pouring the water when she heard him retch. He groped blindly for something to be sick in, and Nell barely made it back in time. When he finished, he grimaced, flopping back against the bed. “Tirnella, I’m sorry-”

          “One more apology out of you today and I’ll be tossing your miserable ass off the balcony. Understand?” she said, cupping his clammy hand in hers. He smiled meekly.

          He dozed quietly for a few minutes, occasionally whimpering and writhing, never fully falling asleep. Nell knelt on the stone floor beside his head, never relinquishing her grip on his hand.

          “Tirnella?” he murmured.

          “Yes?”

          “Please don’t let me die.”

          It continued this way for the remainder of the night, until he had sweat, vomited, and cried himself dry. Nell didn’t sleep a moment, her tired eyes stayed fixed on his face until the sun was just beginning to light the sky. Her quarters were freezing now, and she could feel his fever lowering slightly. Finally, by the mercy of the Maker, Cullen had fallen asleep again, his breathing steady and deep. For the first time in hours, his face actually looked relaxed.

          In the moment of peace, Nell snuck off to get food and tea, along with as many healing potions and herbs she could carry in her pockets. On her way back through the Great Hall, Cassandra called to her as she was passing.

          “How is he doing?” she asked. Nell smiled tiredly at Cassandra’s bluntness, the familiarity of it strangely soothing.

          “He is alive. He is suffering, but he is alive,” she replied. Cass frowned.

          “I fear I said things that were quite harsh to him.”

          “I wouldn’t worry about what you said, Cass. A fist speaks louder than words, anyhow,” she quipped.

          “Still… I would prefer if you gave him my apology, along with my sincere encouragement.” Cassandra put her hand on Nell’s shoulder, then briskly walked past her. Nell hurried onward, already nervous about how long she’d been away.

          Cullen was upright when she arrived, standing in the open balcony doorway, his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Nell dropped her items to her desk and put her hand gently on his shoulder. He flinched, spinning around suddenly in surprise. His face relaxed when he saw her.

          “There you are,” he breathed. With a sheepish smile, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was… worried, when I woke.” She frowned apologetically.

          “I went to get you food, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

          “I am afraid you went for nothing, I fear I won’t be eating today, it’ll only slow my work down if I have to keep stopping drills to be sick,” he said. “But I appreciate the consideration, sweetheart.”

          Nell crossed her arms. “You’ll be working over my dead body, Rutherford. You get back in that bed this instant, or so help me I’ll tie you to it,” she threatened. Cullen laughed.

          “If my head didn’t feel like it had a knife through it, I might be intrigued by the offer.” Tirnella rolled her eyes.

          “You are insufferable. Lie down,” she said, nudging him towards her bed. He didn’t resist, tumbling back to the mattress with a pained groan. “How are you feeling now?” she asked.

          “In a period of relative ease,” he replied. “Sleeping helped, but I fear I am in for a difficult day.” He sighed sadly, his eyes fluttering closed. Nell climbed into bed next to him, settling against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling his face against her hair. “May I confess something?”

          “You know you don’t have to ask, Cullen.”

          “The night you came to my quarters, I suspected you knew something, I could see it on your face.” He faltered. She nodded, gesturing for him to continue. “Tirnella, I lied to you that night. I looked in your eyes and told a lie, deliberately to protect myself and to hurt you. I knew you would want me to stop, I wanted to hurt you, I hoped it would make you drop the subject. When you left that night, I took more, I… I think hoped it would kill me.” There was an extended pause, during which Cullen squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. His breath hitched and he looked at her through glassy eyes. “Tirnella, forgive me, I am so sorry for all of this. Andraste, help me.”

          “Why did you take it, Cullen? Why then, after months of suffering? Was is the red lyrium?”

          “I think that triggered it, but it was more than that. This was the first mission I went on with you, and I failed. I was miserable, and the exposure to the red lyrium made me… Well, I felt powerless,” he whispered. “Absolutely powerless.”

          Nell did not speak, instead she pressed her lips to his face, kissing every inch she could reach. She felt him tremble as he traced his hands down her back, pinning her to his chest as strongly as he could, which was barely a nudge compared to his usual embrace.

          “Please don’t leave me again,” she murmured, pressing her cheek against his.

          “Tirnella, because of your stubborn insistence on caring for me, I won’t be,” he replied, kissing the side of her head.

          “No more secrets, Cullen, even bad ones. I hate to see you suffering, but I hate not even knowing about your suffering more. Can you promise me that?” she asked softly. He nodded.

          “I promise, Nell. No more secrets, not ever.”

          It wasn’t long before his rest was over, and he was bent over on the floor, vomiting up what little his body could produce. She pleaded with him to drink water, but that soon left him too. When he was exhausted enough to sleep, she helped lift him to the bed, and he fell asleep with his fingers clutching her shirt, holding her nearby. Aside from his fever making her sweaty, she didn’t mind being tucked against him while he slept.


	20. The Woman of His Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen has been having nightmares, and everyone in Skyhold is going to do something about it. With the threat of Corypheus looming, some drinking and card games are in order, but Cullen takes a gamble he might regret (but Tirnella doesn't).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mention of withdrawal/relapse/PTSD. Depiction of drinking. Depiction of illness. Mild description of violence.

_Cullen was walking down a corridor he didn’t recognize. It was dark, only light enough to make his way forward, passing closed, unmarked doors as he went. A familiar panic snaked its way into his mind, causing his heart to race. He knew it was only a matter of time before he found her. She had been the main focus of almost all of his nightmares for months. He opened his mouth to scream her name, but only a choked wheeze came. Then, he heard it. Her shouts echoed down the chamber and Cullen broke into a sprint, following the sound. She screamed again, the pain in her voice made Cullen want to be sick._

_“No, please don’t do this!” she shrieked. “I’m begging you, please!”_

_He ran as fast as his feet could carry him, heart nearly leaping out of his chest. His head pounded and his stomach turned, causing him to gag. Finally, he found a door ajar, a light coming from behind it. He kicked it open, nearly tearing it from its hinges, and barreled in._

_He saw her chained on the far side of the room, her mage robes colored in blood and sweat. She had tears streaming down her face as she tugged uselessly against her bindings. She looked so young, so helpless, so terrified, her freckles bloodstained and her red hair matted. But the worst, Cullen decided, was the hate reflected so clearly in her blue eyes. He tasted ash and blood in his mouth. He tried to move, to reach for her, but he remained in place, stuck to the stone floor as if he was part of it. Uselessly, he fought to move his body, to no avail._

_“Take me instead, please, Maker, take me instead,” he begged, but his voice made no sound._

_But then, he was beside her in Templar armor her recognized all too well. He was cupping her chin, holding her face up. She quivered beneath his hands and he felt a rush of power – of pride. Another Templar, whose face he could not place, stood beside him, grimacing._

_“Stupid fucking mage,” he spat. She writhed in her bindings, begging quieter now. Cullen waved his hand with vague disinterest._

_“She won’t be much of a mage any longer,” Cullen replied airily. “Let’s get this done, shall we?”_

_She looked directly at him for the first time. “Cullen, it’s me. It’s Nell. You don’t have to do this!” She was screaming again. “Please, you have to remember.” He went to the fireplace and withdrew the iron brand, the end burning a vibrant orange. He could feel the heat radiating from the end and he knew how badly it would hurt her. Oh, he knew. He twisted the rod in his hands, inspecting it. “No, please, I’m begging you. Cullen, don’t do this to me!” He heard a sharp slap, presumably given by his partner, and she whimpered. He faced her again and she looked up at him, blue eyes shining with tears. Pathetic._

_“Cullen, please,” she whispered. Cullen took a fistful of her hair and tilted her head back. His touch was gentle, almost caring, but then he pressed the sun brand to her forehead. Her scream was loud enough to make him flinch._

         

          Cullen woke suddenly, heart racing, skin drenched in sweat. He gasped for air and tore at the blankets, tumbling out of their bed. He pushed himself up on all fours and looked around frantically, searching for her. He shoved his hands under the covers, nearly tearing them apart in his attempt to pull them back.

          The bed was empty.

          His stomach rolled and he threw open the balcony doors, stumbling to the edge to be violently sick over the railing.  

          _Maker, what if it wasn’t a dream?_

          He retched again, hugged himself tightly, trying to stop from shaking. The images of his nightmare repeated on loop in the foreground of his vision, the sound of her anguish clawed at his brain, and the heat of the brand was still on his fingertips. He could think of little else – with the heels of his palms pressed over his eyes, he tried to remember what he had been doing the day before, or when they had gone to bed, or if she was even Skyhold, but everything he tried to picture was a hazy afterimage superimposed over the look on her face when he hurt her. He had to find her; he had to hold her and look at her face and know she was alright. With trembling arms, he leaned on the balcony and retched again, tears squeezing from his bloodshot eyes. The door behind him creaked and footsteps came running up the stairs.

          “Cullen? Oh, Maker.”

          He felt a small, cold hand between his shoulder blades and he squeezed his eyes shut.

          “You’re not real,” he sobbed. “You’re a trick – a cruel trick. You’re not real.”

          “Cullen, look at me,” Nell whispered, her other hand cupping his cheek. She turned his head to face her, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of her shirt. “I’m real, I’m right here. I only stepped out for a moment to fetch some water. I’m right here.” For a moment, he only stared at her with hazy, unseeing eyes. At first, she worried he might push her away, as his face was still contorted in horror, but it slowly morphed to relief. Then, he collapsed against her, sobbing. She held him against her chest and stroked his cheek, murmuring comfort to him as he cried. He wrapped his arms around her, clutching at her waist desperately. After several minutes, he quieted and withdrew from her. He pushed himself on to his knees and ran his hands through his sweaty hair. Nell crawled towards him and placed her hands on his chest. His heart thrummed beneath her fingers like hummingbird wings.

          “I’m so sorry,” he choked.

          “Shh, none of that,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his forehead. Slowly, she pulled him to his feet and nudged him towards the bed. He sat heavily and sighed. She went to the water pitcher she’d placed on the bedside table and poured him a glass. “Drink,” she instructed. He drank it desperately, filling two more before he was satisfied. She kissed him swiftly on the cheek and knelt in front of him. He looked down at her, guilt in his eyes. She brushed her fingers across his lips before he could speak. “Don’t you dare apologize. Never apologize for this.” She ghosted her fingertips across his forehead next, pushing damp curls from his eyes. “Cullen, is this a magic night or a no magic night?” she asked softly. Cullen grabbed her hands and kissed them gently.

          “Magic,” he croaked. “Please, Maker, use your magic.” She furrowed her eyebrows at his eagerness.

          “Would you like to talk about it?” She asked the same question every time since his relapse, with the same look of care on her face. Some nights, he would shake his head and she would crawl into his lap and kiss his face until he felt steady again. Other nights, he would bare his heart to her, allowing her a glimpse of his darkest burdens. When he would finish, he would avoid her eyes, expecting fear or loathing from her, but every time, she would wipe his tears from his cheeks and she would forgive him of his sins. Each night like this got a little easier. He rarely kept silent about his struggles now, he wanted to tell her everything, to open up to her and let her shine her light inside the cavern of his broken soul, because she always did. Despite everything, she believed he was good, and so he was. Cullen looked at her for a long time, his face warped as he thought back on the horrors he’d committed in his sleep. He took her face in his hands, thumbs gently stroking the soft skin of her cheeks.

          “I made you tranquil. I was a younger, back in Kirkwall. It – it was so violent. You begged me to s-spare you, to have mercy… I was the one who branded you.” He traced trembling fingers over her forehead. If Nell was afraid, her face betrayed nothing. Instead, she rose and sat beside him on the bed, rubbing her hands across his back. He took a shaky breath.

          “It wasn’t really you, Cullen.” He growled and leapt to his feet, pacing.

          “But it was, Tirnella; it was me a few years ago! I _was_ that man. The ritual may not have been exactly like that, but I participated in making mages tranquil. I _have_ carried out that atrocity, I did nothing to stop it.” She watched him from the bed, letting him release his fury; she knew if she interrupted him he would only withdraw from her. He sighed and looked out over the mountains. With a tormented shout, he wrapped his hands around the pitcher of water and threw it at the opposite wall. It struck with a metallic clang and fell pathetically to the floor, water dripping from it. He was shaking, his hands clenched tightly by his side. After a few nights like this, Tirnella was prepared for his outbursts. He was cycling through his feelings, and he’d reached his anger. He never directed it at her, usually just a nearby book or piece of furniture, and she felt no threat from it. Within moments, he would reach defeat. His shoulders would slump and he would deflate, then his eyes would seek hers helplessly, remorsefully. This was when he needed her. This was when Nell reached for his hand, unwinding each of his tense fingers and massaging his palm with her thumbs. She pulled him closer and he stumbled forward willingly.

          “You have grown so much and come so far,” she said, kissing the inside of his wrist. She traced her fingers up a vein protruding from his skin, and over the red lyrium scar embedded in the flesh of his forearm. He took a shaking breath as she lightly pressed her lips to the scar. “Lyrium no longer runs in your blood, Cullen. You are a free man, you left the order, and the path you’ve chosen is your own. Do not forget who you are now because of who you were once.” For a long moment, he only looked up at the sky, taking deep breaths. She stayed quiet, her fingers still tracing patterns along his forearm. Finally, he sighed and knelt on the ground before her. His eyes were misty and his lower lip quivered.

          “I swear to you, Nell, I would not condone tranquility, not ever again. It’s wrong, I should have never allowed it when I had the authority to stop it.” Nell smiled.

          “Remorse maketh the man,” she said with a light chuckle. “How you proceed defines you.” He whimpered and lowered his head to her lap, clutching at the fabric of her nightgown. She gently ran her fingers through his hair, her fingernails lightly scraping his scalp. He shivered.

          They stayed like that for a while, in the quiet, until she noticed his hands had steadied and his breathing was slow and natural. She urged him back into the bed with soft hands and quiet whispers. He stretched out on his stomach, knowing her routine after several violent events like these. It had taken a few tries, and many nights of getting him used to having magic used on him again. At first it was too much, and he would retreat from her. Despite this, she persisted, as if she was trying to win the trust of a particularly skittish cat – slowly, he adjusted. This, however, was the first night he had asked for it so readily, and she was careful not to overwhelm him.

          She straddled his lower back, bringing ice magic to her fingertips, but keeping it just below the surface, not intense enough to hurt. He winced when she drew her hands down his back, cooling his feverish skin. She traced each of his scars, paying special attention to the three in the center. He took in several deep breaths.

          “Turn,” she murmured. He obeyed, twisting beneath her. She repeated the action, running her hands down his flushed chest. He sighed contentedly.

          “I love you,” he whispered. She chuckled.

          “And I love you, always.”

Weeks ago, he would have looked away and asked, “even after this?” He would have been consumed by shame. But tonight, he only smiled and watched her fingertips glow, feeling safer in her arms than he ever did behind a shield and a set of armor. She loved him. By the Maker’s grace and mercy, she had given him her heart, and he would protect it with his life. He smiled and closed his eyes again. “My magic is here, just as it always will be. My forehead is unbranded. You have nothing to fear,” Nell said. He placed his hands on her thighs and massaged them softly.

          “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

          “You like me as a Mage?” she asked, her voice suddenly uncertain. He squeezed her legs lightly.

          “I love you as a Mage.”

          “If you could without consequence, would you… change me?” The question was uttered so quietly, Cullen barely caught it. Her lips were turned downward, and she avoided looking at him directly. He cupped her cheek gingerly.

          “Absolutely not,” he said in a firm voice.

          A reassured smile spread across her lips, but she chose to say nothing, as there was nothing more to discuss on the matter. Still, she felt a strange surge of gladness rush through her, a feeling which surprised her. Though she and Cullen discussed early on that he did not have a problem with her magic, toleration was so much different than appreciation, she noticed. Continuing her work, she moved to his head, running her cooled fingertips down his temples and cheeks, making a point to circle his temples several times. He groaned loudly. She giggled. “The sounds you’re making are sinful, Commander.”

          “It feels wonderful, Nell. I can’t thank you enough.”

          “You should see what I can do with my hands in other places,” she remarked, grinning down at him. He gave her a knowing smile.

          They continued like this for another hour, talking quietly in the dark, Nell rubbed away his headaches with the magic he’d grown almost comfortable with having around. When he felt relaxed enough to try to sleep again, he pulled Nell against him and kissed her face, lips grazing her cheeks, nose, temples, chin, mouth, and especially her forehead. His mouth lingered there for a while as he simply reveled in the feeling of her smooth, unburned skin. She giggled again.

          “Are you finished?” she teased. He kissed her lips once more.

          “I’ll never finish kissing you.” At this, she paused, looking at him with an unreadable expression. Slowly, he noticed the hint of moisture gather in her eyes. Her lip trembled and she turned her face away, covering it with her hands. Cullen cupped her cheeks and brought her to face him. “Look at me. What’s wrong?” he asked. She made a strangled sort of laugh, brushing the tears from the corners of her eyes.

“I just love you more than I know what to do with sometimes. I wish I could take your pain away. Oh, Cullen, you are the love of my life, you know that right?”

Cullen rested his forehead against hers, brushing her nose with his. “You’re crying because you’re happy?” She nodded and he laughed. With the gentlest touch, her took both of hands and kissed them. “Tirnella, I sincerely don’t know where I would be had you not been put on my path.” She curled against his chest, humming to herself.

“Now you’re just flattering me,” she murmured contentedly. He pressed his face into her hair, taking solace in her familiar wildflower scent. Once she fell asleep, Cullen spent another hour awake, wanting only to hold her in his arms, assuring himself that she was here and he hadn’t hurt her. On bad nights, differentiating between what was real and what was a memory became nearly impossible. Touch grounded him – if he could feel it in his hands, it had to be real – and so he ran his fingers across her arm, across the sheets, across his own face. He was in Skyhold, Tirnella was safe, he was free. He repeated this to himself until he felt it in his bones, and sleep came soon after.

          She was there when he woke the next morning, smiling, and he knew he was the luckiest man alive.

 

          Despite small progresses, his recovery went agonizingly slowly, and often took steps backwards. Nell did her best to keep up, but his mood changed seemingly by the hour, and they had argued more times that week than in the past three months, a fact which made them both frustratingly on edge. However, despite this, they remained invested in each other anyway. Cullen often attempted to make excuses to keep his distance, often citing her safety as his concern, but Nell was relentlessly annoying in her quest to support him without fear. At her insistence, the two of them carried his belongings back to their quarters, and she helped him set up his armor rack, exactly as it had been before. While he remained skeptical about sleeping next to her while his rest was so tumultuous, she would not hear it. She also stopped by his office at least twice each day, with some reason she needed to speak with him. Sometimes, she neglected to invent a story at all, settling instead for using his office as the crossroads of Skyhold, passing through it any chance she had. However, much of her visits consisted mostly of her rounding his desk to kiss his face and whisper sweet things. At first, her constant monitoring made him feel ashamed. He briefly entertained the possibility that she did not trust him, but his heart told him that could not be so, as she remained as warm and loyal as ever when the two of them retired to their quarters at night; even when he was on edge and they argued, her affection never faltered, and he found the steadiness empowering. After a few days, and a few very emotional nights, he accepted she was hovering out of an intense desire to protect him, which made him feel warm.

          Cole, on the other hand, made no effort to conceal his motivation when he visited Cullen’s office. Occasionally, he would only step in the doorway, peer at Cullen, then dart off down the battlement stairs. More often than not, Cole stayed with him, as he had done a handful of times when Nell was gone from Skyhold. Though Cullen’s nerves made his temper short, he found himself unable to be angry with Cole. The boy seemingly became more human every day, Solas, Nell, and Varric helped with that, and his riddles became slightly easier to understand. That, or Cullen had spent enough time with him to learn his language. Either way, Cullen took comfort in Cole’s presence. He demanded nothing of Cullen, and appeared to only want to give, a fact which endeared the strange boy to him.

          Even Tirnella’s cat sensed something was amiss, the creature slept every night on top of Cullen’s feet, which was both new and extremely irritating. He found he couldn’t roll anywhere in bed without the cat relocating to be touching him. Eventually, it grew on him, and Cullen found himself smiling when he wandered into his office, mewling for affection. Encouragement seemed to be coming in through every door of his office, and despite his instinct to be overwhelmed and frustrated by it, he derived a motivation from it that rivaled his motivation to be rid of the Templars and his past. This incentive felt different than his previous drives, and it ran deeper, and he would not see them disappointed if he could help it.

          One afternoon, when Cullen had spent too many consecutive hours staring at maps and charts, he heard two voices coming up the stairs by his office. Varric and Tirnella entered, talking boisterously. Cullen looked up from his paperwork.

          “Andraste preserve me, you two looking this excited can only mean bad news for me,” he said, chuckling. Nell grinned and nodded.

          “An astute observation, Commander,” she said with a wink.

          “As it so happens, we are coming to you with an invitation,” Varric said. Cullen narrowed his eyes. The last time Varric came to him with an invitation, it ended up with him and Tirnella drunk in his bed together, so Cullen felt a little inclined to accept without question.

          “It’s not so much an invitation as it is a mandatory summons,” Nell said casually, leaning against his desk. Cullen tilted back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head.

          “And what of the mandatory work my illustrious leader has assigned me?” Cullen asked. Nell crossed her arms.

          “The illustrious leader says to hell with paperwork. You are coming to the tavern tonight and we are all going to play cards and drink until we forget there is a war going on.”

          Cullen laughed. “I don’t think –”

          “What part of ‘mandatory’ did we lose you at?” Varric joked. Cullen cocked his head to the side.

          “Surely our lovely and professional Inquisitor would not abuse her powers to force me to attend a gathering,” he said. Both Nell and Varric laughed loudly.

          “Consider me a tyrant then, because you ass will be seated in the tavern by eight o’clock this evening,” Nell said firmly. “I suggest you hustle on that paperwork, Commander, you have a party to go to.”

          They sauntered out of his office before he could argue further, which made him groan loudly.

 

          Tirnella was beyond excited for a night off. The previous few weeks had been one prolonged stretch of anxiety for her, and she felt the ache in her chest abating finally. She worried nearly constantly for Cullen – he had been so tense, and his withdrawal so debilitating. True to her word, she was steadfast and nurturing. When she sat with him on his worst nights, she often remembered the nights he’d spent by her bedside after she’d been injured in battle, some before they had even started their relationship. After Haven was lost, it was his insistence to look for her that saved her life. It brought her comfort to be returning the consideration.

          She hoped a night of being around people that cared about him would help; that, and her friends never needed a reason to drink with her. With a light heart, she rifled through her wardrobe, digging out a deep blue tunic with silver threading, then combed out her tangled hair with great difficulty. When it was tied back neatly in its braid, she headed to the tavern.

          Varric, Iron Bull, and Dorian were already seated at the table, talking animatedly. Sera and Cassandra came in together a few moments later. Blackwall, Cole, and Josephine trickled in separately. Lastly, Cullen appeared in the doorway. He stood in his armor, looking timid, until Bull noticed him and called loudly to him.

          “Sit down you surly bastard so we can deal you in!” he shouted. Cullen’s mouth twitched into a momentary smile. He took his seat across from Nell, who winked at him.

          The group chattered happily as drinks were passed out in abundance. Cullen even warmed up after a few moments, though Nell thought that might be related to the third drink he downed in less than an hour. His cheeks turned an adorable rosy red as he talked excitedly with Blackwall on his right, and Cassandra on his left. They each took turns telling stories that made everyone laugh and tease. After several hands had been played, and Tirnella had been decimated by an unfortunate team-up between Josephine and Sera, Cullen leaned forward confidently.

          “Deal me in again, I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Josephine. The diplomat gave a friendly smile.

          “A lady has no tells,” she said with a wicked glint in her eye.

          Unsurprisingly, the game quickly went against Cullen’s favor, and he had bet himself into a corner. Josephine laid out her hand with a wide grin and Cullen’s face went white. Bull and Sera howled with laughter, cracking their drinks together in a joyful, drunken toast.

          “Commander, it is unbecoming not to keep your word when you are bested so decidedly,” Josephine said. Though her voice was a neutral and sweet as ever, there was an undeniable edge to her tone, and everyone at the table watched carefully. Cullen gave a pitiful groan and quickly emptied his drink before reaching for the buckles of his armor.

          “Tirnella, remember when I said this night would end badly for me?” he asked as he shrugged out of his breastplate and went to the straps of his gauntlets. Nell laughed as she refilled his tankard from the pitcher on the table.

          “Drink up, Commander, I have a feeling this is going to get worse.”

          And get worse it did. Soon Cullen was officially stripped of his belongings, and with nothing to lose but his small clothes, the entire table held their breath as Josephine examined her hand. Cullen, who was blushing furiously as he sat almost fully naked, watched with panic in his eyes. Josephine smiled and set her cards in front of her.

          “I tried to warn you,” she purred. “Never bet against an Antivan.”

          The table nearly rioted, cheers and shouts echoed off the walls as everyone celebrated the Commander’s stunning loss. Cullen’s eyes were wide and he stared helplessly at Josephine.

          “I don’t actually have to –”

          “Stuff it, Cullen, you lost, now off with them!” Sera cried, slamming her tankard on the table. Cullen closed his eyes for a moment then got it over in one quick movement, tossing his smallclothes in the agreed-upon clothing pile behind him. He sat completely naked, cheeks cherry red, and eyes narrowed in a mix of fury and embarrassment. Nell was in fits, clutching Varric’s shoulder as she laughed. Cole stared at Cullen in shock.

          “It comes off!” he said. “I didn’t know it came off!”

          Varric giggled gleefully and Cullen shot him a threatening glance. “Not one word, dwarf.”

          Cassandra, whose chuckles had finally subsided into an amused shake of her head, pushed herself to her feet. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d rather not see the Commander’s walk of shame back to his quarters. I assume Varric will tell me the story whether I wish to hear it or not.”

          Cullen remained rooted to his chair as the others stood to leave. Sera and Bull made a point of trying to peek at him as they went by, just to annoy him, which they succeeded in doing. He crossed his arms, frustrated. Eventually, it was just Varric, Cullen, and Nell. Varric and Nell watched Cullen with grins on their faces, making Cullen scowl. He looked at Nell pleadingly, nodding his head for her to look away. She gave a dramatic groan.

          “Alright, Varric and I are turning our backs for five seconds. I suggest you run, Commander.”

          As soon as their gaze went elsewhere, she heard the pads of his feet on wood as he sprinted away, still nude, as per the parameters of the bet. Nell laughed tiredly, her belly sore from all the commotion of the evening. Varric wiped his eyes, still chuckling to himself.

          “Well, I’m not sure if that helped Cullen or traumatized him, but it sure was fucking fun,” Nell said, sipping the last bit of her drink. Varric nodded and let out a throaty chuckle.

          “He’ll complain up a storm in the morning, but I think a merciless beating is necessary every once in a while. It keeps a man humble, makes sure he stays on his toes.”

          “I doubt much else is on his mind than his bare ass streaking through Skyhold,” Nell noted. She and Varric talked a few minutes more, and she thanked him for the evening of forgetting just how scary the world was. On her way out, she gathered Cullen’s clothing and armor. She made a point of slipping his fir mantle over her shoulders, displaying the garment proudly.

 

          She climbed the stairs to her quarters, half expecting Cullen to have retreated to his office. Surprisingly, she found him on her couch, a robe tied around his waist. He frowned at her when she entered.

          “I am _never_ playing cards again,” he said in a hushed tone. Nell suppressed a giggle as she set his things down and sat next to him on the couch. His posture was stiff, he kept his arms crossed over his chest, and his muscles were rigid under her fingers.

          “I don’t know,” she said, resting one leg across his lap. “I quite enjoyed watching you lose.”

          He smiled slightly in spite of himself. “The last thing I need is help embarrassing myself in front of you, it’s easy enough as it is.”

          “Commander, don’t be embarrassed, everyone is forced to run across a courtyard naked every once in a while. It could happen to anyone.”

          “Are you mocking me?”

          “Tirelessly.”

          He grumbled to himself, but he threw his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. “All things considered, it was a lot of fun,” he admitted. “Except the part where several of my soldiers saw my…” he trailed off, blushing again.

          Nell smiled. “Perhaps it will earn their respect, seeing a man so confidently displaying his manhood to the entire castle.”

          Cullen groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Maker preserve me, Varric is going to use this against me for the next decade.”

          Nell rubbed his shoulder lovingly. “No, no, my love,” she said. “The next two decades at least.”

          Cullen glared at her. “Hilarious, Tirnella. Perhaps you should pursue a career in tomfoolery and mayhem, as you are inexplicably drawn to it.”

          “Tomfoolery? Maker, Cullen, why didn’t you tell me you just had your eight hundredth birthday?” she teased, poking him in the ribs. He caught her wrist swiftly, using it to pull her onto his lap. With a growl he twisted his fingers around his mantle and pulled her against him, kissing her.

          “That’s enough out of you, you wicked woman,” he breathed against her lips. “And I’ll be wanting this back, you still can’t have it.” Her heart fluttered as he ran his hands down her back before bringing them to a stop on her backside.

          “Would you like to bet me my clothes for it?” she asked, grinning wolfishly. He chuckled.

          “I don’t need to take that gamble, if I give you a moment, you’ll have your trousers off, no bet required,” he murmured. She huffed in fake outrage.

          “Commander, I do believe you are insinuating it is easy to get me into bed,” she said.

          Cullen snickered. “An unfortunate downside to your unconditional affection,” he noted. “However, I should note that it is equally easy, if not easier, to seduce me.”

          “Is that so, Commander?” she said, tightening her grip on his shoulders as she rolled her hips just slightly enough to make him notice. A smirk spread across his face and he gave a slow nod.

          “You could simply glance in my direction and I would be yours,” he replied.

          “Well I’m looking at you right now,” she said softly.

          “And I am yours entirely, as promised.”

          That night, Cullen slept better than he had in weeks, and so did Tirnella. His dreams were free from violent memories and gruesome apparitions, and when the dawn came it brought hope for both of them that the path ahead would be smoother.

          They languished in the morning sunlight filtering through the large windows that basked their bed in a soft glow, they talked in a hushed whisper for a long while after waking, neither willing to start their day.

          “Cullen?” Tirnella said, toying with his fingers on the arm he had draped around her waist. He hummed his response against her shoulder. “I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

          He lifted his head and touched her face. “To the lyrium? You won’t, Nell, I promise.”

          She turned in his arms to face him, fidgeting nervously with the chain around her neck. He caught a glimpse of the coin that hung from it, and he smiled. “No, not that.”

          “What then?”

          She sighed heavily. “Cullen, in the last few months we have both ended this relationship on an emotional impulse, causing the other immense pain.”

          His expression darkened. “I am sorry, Tirnella.”

          She shook her head. “This is not an accusation; I did it to you first.”

          “In our respective defenses, we do lead very challenging lives, and have far more hurdles to surmount than most couples,” he offered. She smiled a little.

          “We love each other, we have to stop cutting ties at the first sign of heartbreak. Cullen, we are going to hurt each other again. It happens, and the only way to avoid it is to shut out all the things that make the hurt so intense, but the result is no good parts at all. I’d rather struggle alongside you than be separated in misery, wouldn’t you agree?”

          Cullen peered at her face for several seconds, his face betraying very little of what was passing through his head. With a tender touch, he rubbed his thumb across her lips, then brought his palm to a stop on her jaw just below her ear. She stayed silent, allowing him the moment of thinking with his hands. Eventually, he pressed his lips to hers in a way that felt like an apology – gentle and delicate, yet earnest.

          “No matter what happens?” he asked, his lips still hovering just above hers.

          “No matter what,” she echoed. “Our lives are as unstable and upsetting as they need to be, we have to be each other’s anchor through all of it.”

          “No conditions,” he said affectionately.

          “And no more dramatic exits,” she joked, breaking some of the intensity. He chuckled.

          “Dramatic exits are more your cup of tea, my dear, I am often the unfortunate recipient.”

          “You are sorely underestimating how insufferable you get when you’re cranky. Everything is the end of the world,” she teased.

          He laughed. “Tirnella, if there is any time to act like it is the end of the world, it is right now. We are, quite literally, trying to save the world.”

          “Thank you for so gracefully reminding me we should absolutely not be in bed shirking our responsibilities,” she said, extracting herself from his grasp. He whined, sitting up to watch her roam about the room. She gathered a stack of notes from her desk.

          “Leliana and Josephine will want to meet today, we are getting very close to our next move,” she said casually. Cullen sighed.

          “Our forces are ready for a major assault,” he said. Nell furrowed her brow.

          “Why the long face, shouldn’t you be pleased?” she asked. He pushed himself out of the bed and stretched, his back cracking a few times.

          “Because, Tirnella, I am very unenthused about sending you into combat again, especially if it is on the scale we intend it to be. I take no pleasure in knowing I am sending you ahead into danger without me.”

          She shrugged smugly. “I am fairly tough, I made it this far, and if I recall correctly I once beat your ass sparring in the courtyard.”

          Cullen rolled his eyes. “You won that match on a technicality, and that brings me no comfort. I don’t have a set of armor made a red lyrium and corrupted templars at my disposal, Samson does.”

          “And we have an army led by a dedicated and intelligent Commander, a network of scouts and spies overseen by the most terrifying woman in Thedas, and the support and loyalty of the countless allies thanks to a ridiculously clever ambassador. Plus, a handful of misfits we picked up along the way,” she added. Cullen attempted to keep his serious look on his face, but it faded into tired bemusement.

          “When you are so unyieldingly optimistic, it makes it very hard to maintain my nervous and foreboding demeanor,” he grumbled. She laughed heartily.

          “One of us has to stay hopeful, I’m just naïve enough to really embrace it,” she said. He frowned.

          “Tirnella, you may be impulsive and a touch foolhardy, but you are in no way naïve,” he said.

          “A little backhanded, don’t you think?” she replied curtly. He shook his head.

          “No, I’m sorry, that wasn’t the right way to say it,” he apologized. “You _are_ impulsive and foolhardy, but it is one of your most impressive qualities.”

          “Elaborate,” she said, raising one eyebrow.

          “The Inquisition has succeeded in ways none of us could have imagined, or were willing to attempt. You were the driving force willing to make strong choices in an instant, and as the threat escalated those rapid, bold decisions saved lives and won our victories. In Haven, you volunteered to try for a miracle, and it got people out who are alive in this fortress now. On countless occasions you have been the sole reason any of us still live. Neither myself, Josephine, Leliana, or Cassandra could have done that, we wouldn’t have taken the risks.” As he talked, he’d grown more expressive and animated, his cadence turning to more of a rallying speech than an answer. It made her blush.

          “I had no idea you thought that about me,” she admitted. “I thought it was your least favorite feature, given how often it seems to get me injured.” His face fell and he stepped towards her.

          “Have I given the impression –” he sighed, “of course I have. Tirnella, my criticism in that regard stems from fear of losing you, I apologize if that came across as doubt in your capabilities. I’ve seen you fight, you are intimidating.”

          The last sentence made Nell freeze. Her eyes widened. “Say that again,” she said in a self-satisfied voice. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and gave a theatrical groan.

          “You are a very skilled fighter, Tirnella, and you are intimidating to watch in combat,” he said in an intentional monotone. She beamed at him and leaned forward to put her arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a kiss. He responded to her touch on instinct, placing his hands on her back to bring her to his chest.

          Much too late in the morning, they finally separated for the day, until the evening meeting in the War Room. Tirnella was on her way to speak with Solas when she was intercepted by Morrigan.

          “My lady, Inquisitor, I have something important to discuss with you,” she said in her rhythmic voice.

          “Very well, what’s troubling you?” Nell asked, stepping off to a more secluded area. Morrigan took a controlled breath.

          “It is best if I show you, I believe I have found something Corypheus wants, and it may lead us right to him.”


End file.
